£^ 


^t-i'fy^^rk 


p. 


Srom  t^e  feifimrt  of 

QprofeBBor  ^amuef  (ttliffer 

in  (giemoti?  of 

3ubge  ^amuef  (gliffer  QBrecfeintibge 

^resente^  61? 

^amuef  (Qliffer  QBtecftinribge  feong 

to  t^  fei6ratt?  of 

(Princeton  C^eofogicaf  ^eminarj 

\ao6 


AJ4 

ACCOUNT 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

OF 

HUGH  BLAIR,  D,  D. 

F.  R  S.  E. 

ONE   OF  THE  MINISTERS  OF  THE  HIGH  CHURCH, 

AND  PROFESSOR  OF  RHETORIC   AND 

BELLES  LETTRES  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

EDINBURGH. 

BY    T^E    LATE 

JOHN  HILL,  L.  L.  D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  HUMANITY  IN  THE 

'JNIVERSITY,    AND    FELLOW  OF  THE  ROYAL  SOCIETY 

OF  EDINBURGH. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED    AND    SOLD     BY     JAMES    HUMPHREYS, 

Change  zva/kf 
TheCtrner  of  iiecona  ana  fl^'alnut. streets, 

ibob. 


.  >w 


ACCOUNT 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 


or 


DR.  HUGH  BLAIR. 


Biography,  as  a  species  of  history,  has 
advantages  pecuHar  to  itself.  As  venial  de- 
feds  may  be  thrown  into  the  shade,  the 
picture  is  beheld  with  more  admiration  than 
the  original.  While  the  striking  features 
of  a  living  charafter  may  be  seen  or  report- 
ed, we  are  less  anxious  to  colled;  them. 
As  long  as  the  circumstances  in  which 
his  charadler  is  placed  may  vary,  we  feel 
ourselves  at  liberty  to  change  our  opinions, 


and  we  fix  unalterably  the  estimation  that  is 
due  to  him,  only  when  he  has  retired  from 
the  scene  of  life. 

•  From  departed  worth  there  is  seldom  any 
disposition  to  detrad:.  Even  the  merit  that 
was  once  doubtful  is  recognised  as  genuine; 
the  outlines  of  a  great  character  conceal  its 
foibles  ;  and  the  meanness  of  jealousy  is 
ashamed  to  show  itself. 

The  talents  and  virtues^  which  once  com- 
manded the  admiration  of  the  world,  pre- 
sent a  subjedl  of  inquiry  that  is  no  less  use- 
ful than  agreeable.  What  we  are  obliged 
to  revere,  we  are  ever  prone  to  imitate. 
High  as  the  standard  may  be  by  which 
others  have  regulated  their  con  dad:,  the  at- 
tainment of  it  is  seen  to  be  possible;  and 
they  who  are  accustomed  to  contemplate 
distinguished  endowments  in  others,  often 
fostej  such  in  themselves,  without  being 
conscious  of  doing  so. 

The  author  of  this  biographical  disserta- 
tion knows  well  the  difficulty  of  the  task 
undertaken   by  him.      From   the   singular 


modesty  of  its  amiable  suhje^,  every  ves- 
tige of  a  corresp  .ndencc,  of  Inch  others 
v^ould  have  been  pro  ad,  has  been  destroy- 
ed, except  a  ft^w  letters  resped:ing  Ossiui's 
Poems.  Dr.  Blair  was  of  opinion,  thit  in 
composing  the  lives  of  eminent  men,  an 
improper  use  had  been  made  of  the  letters 
addressed  to  them  ;  and  he  did  not  think 
it  fair  to  turn  such  letters  to  a  purpose,  of 
which  those  who  wrote  them  were  not 
aware. 

Many  interesting  anecdotes  have  thus  pe- 
rished, which  the  admirers  of  his  charadter 
would  have  read  with  pleasure.  His  bio- 
grapher laments  the  loss  of  such  valuable 
materials ;  and,  while  he  feels  the  honour 
of  having  been  requested  by  his  most  inti-r 
mate  friend  to  transmit  his  name  to  poste- 
rity, he  wishes  this  last  duty  had  fallen  upon 
One  better  qualified  to  discharge  it. 

The  venerable  Clergyman,  v/hose  life  and 
character  are  now  to  be  the  subjed:  of  at- 
tention,  was  a  lineal  descendant  of  an  an- 


cient  family  in  the  west  of  Scotland ;  that 
of  Blair  of  Blair.  Abilities  of  a  superior 
kind  seem  to  have  marked  the  family  in 
general ;  and  individuals  of  it  have  at  dif- 
ferent times  taken  the  rank  that  was  due 
to  them  in  the  departments  of  divinity,  of 
law,  and  of  physic.  His  great-grandfather, 
Mr.  Robert  Blair,  was  eminent  in  the  cleri- 
cal profession,  in  which  Dr.  Blair  himself 
shone.  As  this  Mr.  Robert  Blair  was  a  cler- 
gyman of  distinguished  reputation,  some 
preliminary  observations  respefting  him  may 
not  be  unacceptable  Great  men  spring 
often  from  men  like  themselves ;  and  the 
talents  and  virtues  that  once  adorned  an  il- 
lustrious ancestor,  may  be  traced  in  the  cha- 
racter even  of  remote  descendants. 

Mr.  Robert  Blair  was  born  in  the  end  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  was  very  early  in 
life  appointed  a  professor  in  the  university 
of  Glasgow.  Feeling,  however,  a  greater 
inclination  to  preach  the  gospel,  than  to 
teach  philosophy,  he  obtained  a  license  from 
the  church.    Tiie  merit  of  his  sermons  jus- 


tified  the  expeftations  that  had  been  formed 
ol  him,  and  they  were  often  delivered  to  a 
crowded  audience. 

During  the  vacation  of  the  college,  he 
attended  the  celebrated  Assembly  held  at 
Perth  in  the  year  1618.  He  there  witnes- 
sed the  zeal  of  Spottiswood,  Archbishop  of 
St.  Andrews,  in  behalf  of  prelacy,  and  of 
certain  ceremonies  before  unknown  in  Scot- 
land. In  his  own  opinion,  which  was  con- 
trary to  that  of  the  Primate,  he  remained 
unshaken,  and  could  neither  be  seduced  by 
his  artifices,  nor  intimidated  by  his  threats. 
The  friends  of  Mr.  Blair  however,  were 
aware  of  the  danger  to  which  he  exposed 
himself.  Monsieur  Basnage,  then  receiving 
contributions  in  Scotland  for  the  French 
protestants,  invited  him  to  go  to  France, 
that  he  might  avoid  the  vengeance  of  the 
offended  bishops.  This  offer  he  rejected; 
and  he  declared  publicly,  with  more  zeal 
than  prudence,  that  the  superiority  of  a 
prelate  over  his  diocese,  of  a  primate  over 
a  kingdom,  and  of  a  pope  over  the  church, 


were,  in  his  opinion,  equally  unauthorised 
by  scripture. 

In  consequence  of  the  part  which  Mr. 
Blair  took  in  regard  to  the  Perth  i\rticles, 
which  were  ratified  in  162 1,  his  situation 
in  the  university  of  Glasgow  soon  became 
disagreeable.  Law,  the  Archbishop  of  Glas- 
gow, was  rigorous  in  enforcing  the  Articles, 
and  Cameron,  the  Principal  of  the  univer- 
versity  there,  was  ad:ive  in  seconding  his 
views.  The  ledlures  of  Mr.  Blair  being  in- 
vidiously watched,  and  misconstrued,  com- 
plaints were  made  of  him  to  the  king,  which 
his  majesty  was  pleased  to  disregard.  He 
resolved,  however,  to  give  up  an  office  in 
which  he  could  be  of  little  service  to  the 
public,  and  upon  going  over  to  Ireland,  he 
was  settled  as  a  clergyman  at  Bangor. 

This  change  of  situation  at  the  same  time 
procured  Mr.  Blair  I  ut  a  short  respite.  The 
principles  which  he  had  espoused  in  Scot- 
land made  him  odious  to  the  Irish  Episco- 
palians. He  was  dismissed  from  his  charge 
at   Bangor  by   Ecklin,    Bishop  of  Doune,- 


and  he  found  no  redress  from  Usher  the 
Primate.  Urged  by  necessity,  and  encou- 
raged by  many,  of  whose  wisdom  and  at- 
tachment he  was  fully  convinced,  he  took 
the  bold  resolution  of  going  to  London,  and 
ot  imploring  in  person  the  king's  protedion.- 
He  was  there  promised  support  by  the  Earl 
of  Stirling,  Secretary  for  Scotch  affairs,  but 
deceived  by  him.  Far  from  being  discou- 
raged by  a  breach  of  promise,  which  dis- 
honoured the  nobleman  that  was  guilty  of 
it,  he  found  his  way  to  the  king  himself. 
His  majesty  heard  the  request  with  gracious 
condescension,  and,  by  a  missive  in  his  own 
hand-writing,  commanded  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford, then  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  to 
see  him  reinstated  in  his  benefice. 

In  the  year  1639,  after  having  been  some 
time  a  widower,  Mr.  Blair  married  Katha- 
rine, daughter  of  Hugh  Montgomery,  of 
Busby,  in  Ayrshire.  As  his  situation  in 
Ireland,  even  in  spite  of  the  king's  inter- 
ference, became  daily  more  uncomfortable. 


10 

he  determined  to  quit  it.  He  set  out  with 
other  clergymen,  upon  a  voyage  to  New 
England,  but  was  driven  back  by  a  storm. 
Soon  afterwards  he  came  to  Scotland,  with 
an  intention  to  go  abroad  as  chaplain  to 
Colonel  Hepburn's  regiment,  then  in  the 
French  service.  This  intention,  however, 
was  not  fulfilled,  from  the  attachment  of 
those  who  respedled  his  talents,  and  felt 
for  his  misfortunes.  Such  was  his  popu- 
larity, that  a  number  of  matrons  presented, 
in  the  streets  of  Edinburgh,  an  address  to 
the  Earl  of  Traquair,  lord  Treasurer,  re- 
questing of  the  council,  that  he  and  his  per- 
secuted brethren  might  be  restored  to  their 
clerical  fundions.  The  request  was  grant- 
ed, and  Mr.  Blair  was  soon  after  settled  as 
minister  at  Ayr.  There  he  was  allowed  to 
remain  but  a  short  time.  By  an  ad:  of  as- 
sembly in  1639,  he  was  ordered  to  trans- 
port himself  to  St.  Andrews;  and  that  he 
might  submit  the  more  cordially  to  the 
mandate,  his  friend,    Mr.  Samuel  Ruther-- 


11 

ford,    was   appointed   professor   of  divinity 
there  in  St.  Mary's  College. 

The  character  of  Mr.  Blair  became  more 
conspicuous,  as  the  times  in  which  he  lived 
became  more  troublesome.  After  the  de- 
feat of  Charles,  who  had  burnt  the  articles 
of  treaty  with  the  Scots,  this  distinguished 
clergyman  was  appointed  by  the  commit- 
tee of  estates  to  assist  the  commissioners 
for  ratifying  the  treaty  at  Rippon,  in  1640. 
Two  years  after,  he  was  fent  to  Ireland  by 
the  General  Assembly,  to  settle  probation- 
ers in  the  room  of  those  Protestant  clergy- 
men who  were  massacred  during  the  rebel- 
lion among  the  Papists.  He  was,  by  the 
same  authority,  appointed  in  1643  one  of 
the  committee  who  met  John,  Earl  of  Rut- 
land, and  four  other  English  commission- 
ers, to  ratify  the  Solemn  League  and  Cove- 
nant which  was  to  be  binding  on  the  two 
countries.  He  accompanied  the  army  raised 
by  the  convention  of  estates,  to  assist  that 
of  the  Parliament  of  England  then  at  war 
with    the  king,   and   remained  with   it   as 


12 

chaplain  to  Lord  Crawford's  regiment  till 
after  the  vidory  obtained  at  Marston- 
moor. 

When  Charles  escaped  from  his  own  ar- 
my, and  put  himself  under  the  protection  of 
the  Scots,  Mr.  Blair  was  sent  with  other 
commissioners  to  meet  the  King  at  New- 
castle. They  the^e  tried  to  reconcile  his 
majesty  to  presbyterian  government,  and  to 
the  observance  of  the  covenants.  Though 
the  object  in  view  was  not  obtained,  yet 
Mr.  Blair  adled  with  so  much  address  and 
discretion,  as  to  recommend  himself  to  his 
majesty*s  favour.  Of  this  he  received  a 
flattering  proof,  by  being  named  sole  chap- 
lain for  Scotland  without  soliciting  the  of- 
fice. 

When  Cromwell  came  to  Edinburgh,  Mr. 
Blair  and  two  other  clergymen  were  ap- 
pointed to  w^ait  upon  him,  to  request  that 
he  would  promote  uniformity  between  the 
churches  of  England  and  Scotland.  Du- 
ring the  interview,  he  saw  with  his  usual 
penetration   the  charader  of  the  Protedor, 


13 

and  the  motives  by  which  his  conduft  was 
influenced.  To  these,  one  of  his  brethren 
Mr.  James  Sharp,  afterwards  Archbishop  of 
St.  Andrews,  was  bhnd ;  and  expressed  his 
satisfacflion  with  Cromwell's  condescension. 
Mr.  Blair  regardless  of  every  consequence, 
at  once  exposed  the  mistake,  and  declared 
him  "  to  be  an  egregious  dissembler,  and 
a  great  liar." 

Mr.  Blair  being  in  London  during  the 
time  of  King  Charles's  trial,  his  majesty 
expressed  a  strong  desire  to  converse  with 
him,  which  privilege  was  denied.  Nothing 
could  ever  reconcile  this  spirited  man  to 
the  dominion  of  the  Proteftor.  He  saw 
with  indignation  the  arts  by  which  this 
usurper  crept  into  power,  and  dreaded  the 
consequences  to  which  they  might  then 
lead.  He  zealously  opposed  sending  a  de- 
putation from  the  church  to  solicit  his  fa- 
vour. He  was  aware  of  Sharp's  disposition 
to  betray  the  trust  committed  to  him,  and 
had  early  information  that  he  had  done  so. 
Pie  afterwards  shewed  himself  regardless  of 


14 

the  power  of  a  Primate,  whom  he  could  not 
respeft.  The  vindiftive  spirit  of  the  Arch- 
bishop soon  drove  him  from  St.  Andrews, 
and  he  ended  a  Hfe  of  uncommon  useful- 
ness and  aftivity,  in  the  parish  of  Aberdour, 
in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his  age. 

This  distinguished  clergyman,  whose  cha- 
racter seems  entitled  to  the  notice  that  has 
been  taken  of  it,  left  behind  him  two  sons, 
David  and  Hugh.  David  was  minister  of 
the  Old  Church  in  Edinburgh,  and  father 
of  Mr.  Robert  Blair,  minister  at  Athelstone- 
ford,  and  of  Mr.  Archibald  Blair,  minister  at 
Garvald,  both  in  East  Lothian.  The  for- 
mer of  these  was  author  of  the  beautiful 
poem  entitled  *^  The  Grave,"  and  father  of 
Robert  Blair,  Esq.  advocate,  for  many  years 
his  majesty's  solicitor-general  for  Scotland, 
whose  high  professional  abilities  have  long 
done  honour  to  his  country.  The  latter  was 
father  to  Dr.  Robert  Blair,  Professor  of  prac- 
tical astronomy  in  the  university  of  Edin- 
burgh, whose  learning  and  ingenuity  have 
been  universally  acknowledged. 


15 

From  Hugh,  the  younger  son  of  Robert 
sprung  John,  who  was  a  respedable  mer- 
chant, and  one  of  the  magistrates  of  Edin- 
burgh. As  his  fortune  suffered  considerably 
from  being  engaged  in  the  South  Sea  scheme, 
he  obtained  an  office  in  the  excise.  He 
married  Martha  Ogston,  and  the  first  child 
of  this  marriage  was  the  celebrated  Hugh 
Blair,  the  subjed:  of  the  present  memoir, 
who  was  born  on  the  7th  of  April,  171 8. 

Though  the  fortune  of  Mr.  John  Blair 
had  suffered,  yet  it  was  not  so  much  im- 
paired as  to  prevent  him  from  giving  his 
son  a  liberal  education.  He  had  early  per- 
ceived in  him  marks  of  latent  genius,  and 
he  resolved  to  bestow  that  polish  upon  the 
gem,  which  would  in  the  end  display  its 
value.  The  industry  of  the  young  man  was 
sharpened  by  a  sense  of  his  situation.  He 
soon  saw,  that  in  proportion  to  the  exertions 
at  the  beginning,  would  be  his  success  du- 
ring the  career  of  life. 

After  going  through  the  usual  coarse  at 
the  High  School,   he  became  a  student  at 


16 

the  university  of  Edinburgh  in  Odlobcr 
^1730.  Though  beloved  by  the  boys  with 
whom  he  was  educated,  yet  from  the  feeble- 
ness of  his  constitution,  he  was  not  able  to 
partake  much  in  their  sports.  He  prefer- 
red amusing  himself  at  his  solitary  walks, 
with  repeating  the  poems  of  others,  and 
sometimes  attempting  to  make  poems  of  his 
own. 

When  he  became  a  student  at  the  uni- 
versity, his  constitution  grew  more  vigo- 
rous, and  he  could  pursue  both  the  amuse- 
ments and  the  studies  that  belonged  to  his 
time  of  hfe.  He  was  taught  humanity 
or  philology  under  Professor  Adam  Watt, 
Greek  under  Professor  Colin  Drummond, 
and  logic  under  Professor  John  Stevenson. 
In  all  his  classes  he  attracted  attention,  but 
in  the  logic  class  he  was  particularly  dis- 
tinguished. While  attending  this  class,  he 
composed  an  essay,  n^p/  t«  kuxh  that  is,  upon 
the  Beautiful,  in  which  the  bent  of  his 
genius  first  displayed  itself  both  to  him- 
self and  to  others.    With  a  power  of  discri- 


17 

mination,  and  a  cor  redness  of  feeling,  be- 
yond  what  could  have  been  expeded  from 
a  youth  of  but  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  mark- 
ed the  general  characters  of  beauty  as  residing 
in  the  different  objedts  of  taste. 

The  merit  of  this  essay  was  evinced  by 
the  most  flattering  marks  of  .the  professor's 
approbation.  He  ordered  it  to  be  read  pub- 
licly at  the  end  of  the  session  during  which 
it  was  composed,  and  he  considered  it  as  a 
performance  that  did  credit  to  himself,  as 
well  as  to  his  pupil. 

In  the  year  1739,  when  the  course  of  Mr. 
Blair's  academical  studies  was  nearly  finish- 
ed, he  published  a  thesis,  "  De  fundamen- 
tis  et  obligatione  Legis  NaturceS'  This  he 
did  with  a  view  to  become  entitled  to  the 
degree  of  master  of  arts.  The  discussion, 
though  short,  as  was  required,  is  able.  It 
contains  the  substance  of  what  is  said  upon 
that  important  subjedt  by  ancient  and  mo- 
dern philosophers,  and  exposes  the  sullen 
system  of  Hobbes,  as  inconsistent  not  only 
with  the  happiness,  but  even  with  the  ex- 


18 

istence  of  society.  The  language  also  is 
spirited  and  elegant.  A  few  errors  may 
perhaps  be  detected  in  it  by  those  who  have 
studied  the  Latin  language  critically,  but 
they  will  escape  the  notice  even  of  respect- 
able proficients.  In  the  moral  dodrine  of 
this  essay  may  be  seen  the  first  dawnings  of 
that  virtuous  sensibility  in  its  author,  by 
which  the  world  was  afterwards  to  profit  in 
his  sermons. 

After  spending  eleven  years  at  the  univer- 
sity, in  the  study  of  literature,  philosophy, 
and  divinity,  Mr.  Blair  was  licensed  to  preach 
the  Gospel  by  the  presbytery  of  Edinburgh 
on  the  2ist  of  Oftober,  1741.  His  first 
appearances  in  the  pulpit  justified  the  ex- 
pedlations  which  his  friends  had  formed  of 
him.  His  dodtrines  were  sound  and  prac- 
tical, and  his  language,  though  somewhat 
flowery,  presented  none  of  that  false  glare, 
which  while  it  pleases  a  vulgar,  always  of- 
fends a  judicious  eye.  Its  early  luxuriance 
soon  corrected  itself,  and  was  understood  by 
his  friends  to  announce  die  value  of  the  crop. 


19 

when  the  fruits  of  his  genius  should  be  ma- 
tured by  time. 

The  fame  of  the  young  preacher  was  not 
confined  to  the  city  within  which  his  ser- 
mons were  generally  delivered.  One  ser- 
mon of  his,  in  the  West  Church,  was  parti- 
cularly noticed.  It  arrested  the  attention 
of  a  very  numerous  congregation,  and  spoke 
to  the  feelings  of  many  hearers,  whose  ob- 
jects of  pursuit,  and  whose  portions  of  un- 
derstanding, were  extremely  different.  The 
form  of  religious  truth  assumed  its  prero- 
gative; it  inflamed  the  ardour  of  the  pious, 
and  settled  the  doubts  of  the  wavering. 

The  Earl  of  Leven,  hearing  of  the  merit 
of  this  sermon,  was  desirous  to  reward  the 
preacher  by  procuring  him  a  presentation  to 
the  church  of  Colessie  in  Fifeshire^  which 
was  vacant  at  that  time.  Upon  the  23d  of 
September  1742,  accordingly,  Mr.  Blair 
was  ordained  minister  of  Colessie,  in  the 
presbytery  of  Cupar.  There  he  continued 
nearly  ten  months;  when  those  talents  which 
might  have  languished  in  the  obscurity  of  a 


20 

country  parish,  were  brought  into  a  sphere, 
in  which  they  became  conspicuous,  and  ex- 
tensively useful. 

In  consequence  of  a  vacancy  in  the  Ca- 
nongate  of  Edinburgh,  his  friends  were  en- 
abled to  restore  him  ,to  the  neighbourhood 
of  his  native  city.  Here  he  was  admitted 
second  minister  upon  the  14th  of  July,  1743. 
In  order  to  accomplish  this  settlement,  no 
small  efforts  were  required,  as  the  second 
charge  of  the  Canongate  is  supplied  by  po- 
pular elecflion,  and  his  competitor,  Mr.  Ro- 
bert Walker,  then  in  high  estimation  as  a 
preacher,  was  powerfully  supported  in  the 
canvass.  By  the  moft  active  exertions,  how- 
ever, out  of  two  hundred  and  eighteen  votes, 
Mr.  Blair  obtained  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
six.  During  the  eleven  years  that  he  conti- 
nued minister  of  the  Canongate,  his  repu- 
tation as  a  preacher  was  continually  grow- 
ing. The  gay  and  the  serious,  the  opulent 
and  the  needy,  the  learned  and  the  illite- 
rate, vied  with  each  other  in  eagerness  to 
profit   by   those  instruftions,    which   were 


21 

alike  useful,  and  which  the  art  of  the  preach- 
er rendered  alike  agreeable  to  them  all.  By 
the  elegance  of  his  compositions,  the  taste 
of  the  critic  was  gratified,  and  by  their 
piety,  the  faith  of  the  Christian  was  con- 
firmed. He  made  the  precepts  of  rehgion 
to  reach  the  heart  by  a  channel,  in  which 
their  course  was  not  to  be  resisted.  When 
such  sentiments  gained  admission  by  his 
eloquence  into  breasts,  in  which  they  were 
strangers,  they  assumed  their  native  autho- 
rity: and  they  made  even  the  ungodly  feel 
and  confess  their  influence. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  be  supposed,  that 
such  professional  merit  as  Mr.  Blair's  could 
stop  at  any  point  in  the  line  of  his  prefer- 
ment but  the  highest.  In  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  mxCtropolis  his  pre- 
tensions could  not  lie  concealed.  He  was 
translated  from  the  Canongate  to  that  church 
in  the  citj  of  Edinburgh  which  is  called 
Lady  Tester's,  on  the  i  ith  of  Ocflober,  1754, 
and  from  thence  to  the  High  Church,  on 
the  15th  of  June,   1758. 


22 

When  a  Scottish  clergyman  reaches  the 
station  last  mentioned,  the  career  of  his 
professional  ambition  is  understood  to  be 
over.  It  is  then  his  province  to  preach  be- 
fore the  judges  of  the  land,  and  to  instruft 
the  most  learned  and  respedtable  audience 
which  his  country  can  present.  Mr.  Blair's 
talents  for  pulpit  eloquence  could  now  dis- 
play themselves  to  advantage.  Every  thing 
tended  to  fire  that  laudable  ambition,  which 
even  in  him  gave  confidence  to  modesty, 
and  which  led  him  on  to  that  eminence 
which  he  so  justly  deserved. 

The  terms  of  the  Atl  ot  Council,  upon 
which  he  was  translated  by  the  Presbytery 
of  Edinburgh  to  the  High  Church,  are  ho- 
nourable to  the  presentee.  It  is  recorded, 
that  this  measure  was  adopted,  "  because 
the  Council  had  it  fully  ascertained,  that 
his  translation  would  be  highly  acceptable 
to  persons  of  the  most  distinguished  cha- 
racfler  and  eminent  rank  in  this  country, 
who  had  their  seats  in  said  church."  Had 
he  been  of  a  political  and  an  ambitious  ois- 


2-3 

position,  we  should  have  given  him  credit 
for  his  sagacity,  and  for  his  skill  in  in- 
trigue. His  innate  modesty  wc  should  have 
construed  into  refined  address,  and  have  ap- 
plauded that  wisdom,  which  made  him  for- 
bear to  solicit  the  attention  of  the  world, 
till  he  could  for  certain  command  its  re- 
sped:.  Few  men,  however,  were  ever  less 
disposed  to  force  themselves  upon  the  no- 
tice of  the  public.  When  its  honours  came 
upon  him,  he  felt  their  value;  but,  had  these 
been  withheld,  a  mind  happily  superior  to 
jealousy  and  arrogance  would  have  armed 
him  against  the  pain  of  discontent.  His 
friends  were  accordingly  more  adivc  than 
himself  in  devising  plans  for  bringing  him 
into  notice. 

During  the  four  years  that  Mr.  Blair  was 
minister  of  Lady  Yester's,  several  events 
occurred  in  his  life  too  important  to  be 
omitted.  Though  he  was  disposed  by  his 
natural  temper,  and  even  obliged  by  the  nar- 
rowness of  his  circumstances,  to  shun  the 
company  of  his    superiors   in  fortune,   yet 


24. 

his  abilities  were  known  and  respeded  by 
them  all.  His  fame  as  a  preacher  was  by 
this  time  established,  but  his  talents  in  the 
way  of  critical  learning  were  known  only 
to  his  personal  friends.  Fortunately  for  li- 
terature in  those  times,  no  illiberal  jealousy 
disgraced  its  votaries.  No  literary  combi- 
nations then  existed  in  this  country,  nor 
was  the  critic's  candour  ever  seen  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  the  principles  of  his  party  ei- 
ther in  science  or  politics.  That  honest 
emulation  which  prompted  each  to  excel, 
led  him  to  disdain  to  injure  the  man  whom 
in  his  own  department  he  could  not  eclipse, 
and  to  feel  more  satisfaction  in  sharing  lite- 
rary honours  with  a  deserving  rival,  than  in 
seizing  them  with  a  selfish  avidity. 

The  stock  of  literature  which  then  adorn- 
ed the  country,  was  the  pride  of  the  different 
scholars  who  coUeded  it,  and  the  mutual 
generosity  of  their  sentiments  gave  a  lustre 
to  their  literary  acquisitions,  which  nothing 
else  could  impart.  To  the  manly  liberality 
of  Dr.  Blair's  intimate  and  learned  friends. 


25 

the  world  stands  indebted  for  his  services 
as  a  scholar.  By  presenting  attractions  of 
which  he  was  hardly  aware,  they  drew  him 
from  the  retirement  to  which  he  seemed  at- 
tached; and  they  led  him  almost  involun- 
tarily to  assume  a  place  in  the  republic  of 
letters,  suited  to  that  merit  of  which  he 
seemed  unconscious. 

In  spite  of  every  attempt  upon  his  part 
to  decline  literary  honours,  they  were  heap- 
ed upon  him  with  profusion.  In  June  1757 
the  university  of  St.  Andrews  showed  its 
discernment,  by  presenting  him  with  the 
degree  of  Doctor  in  Divmity;  and  as  this 
academical  honour  was  then  hardly  known 
in  Scotland,  it  was  the  more  creditable  for 
those  who  attained  it.  The  town-council 
of  Edinburgh,  in  August  1760,  instituted 
in  the  university  there  a  Professorship  of 
Rhetoric,  to  which  they  elected  and  appoint- 
ed Dr.  Blair.  The  merit  of  the  presentee, 
and  his  fitness  for  the  office,  had  been  pro- 
ved by  a  set  of  ledures  which  he  delivered 
the  preceding  winter.  In  April  1762  his 
4 


26 

majesty  was  graciously  pleased  to  give  an 
early  proof  of  that  royal  munificence,  with 
which  he  has  always  distinguished  the  uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh,  by  ereding  and  endow- 
ing a  Professorship  of  Rhetoric  and  Belles 
Lettres,  and  appointing  Dr.  Blair  professor, 
with  a  salary  of  £,  70. 

The  manner  in  which  the  learned  Docftor 
acquired  his  different  offices,  it  should  seem 
was  in  the  highest  degree  flattering  to  him- 
self. Blessed  with  a  mind  superior  to  those 
artifices,  by  which  the  undeserving  often  at- 
tain eminence,  personal  merit  alone  procu- 
red him  the  best  field  for  the  display  of  his 
powers.  The  most  learned  audience  of  this 
country  were  the  weekly  judges  of  his  pul- 
pit eloquence,  in  which  any  thing  spurious 
would  have  been  detedled  and  condemned. 
From  a  professor  holding  a  new  establish- 
ment in  an  university  which  had  much  re- 
putation to  boast  of,  no  ordinary  perform- 
ances were  expeded  ;  and  high  was  the 
responsibility  imposed  upon  that  learned 
man,  to  whom  the  task  of  forming  the  taste 


27 

of  the  rising  generation  was  thus  formally 
consiened.  The  excellencies  and  the  de- 
feds  of  his  character  might  then  become 
alike  conspicuous,  and  the  public  could  judge 
unerringly  with  what  justice  it  had  loaded 
him  with  its  honours. 

Let  us  examine  its  discernment,  by  view- 
ing Dr.  Blair  in  three  distinct  charaders  ; 
as  a  Critic y  as  a  Preacher,  and  as  a  Man, 

In  the  year  1755,  the  expedations  of  the 
public,  from  the  abilities  of  a  certain  set  of 
literary  men,  were  about  to  be  realised.  Mr. 
Wedderburn,  afterwards  Earl  of  Rosslyn, 
Dr.  Robertson,  Dr.  Smith,  and  Dr.  Blair, 
had  given  room  even  to  ordinary  observers  to 
prognosticate  their  future  eminence  in  their 
respedive  lines.  With  a  generous  view 
to  improve  literature  in  Scotland,  where, 
though  it  had  begun  to  dawn,  it  was  but 
little  advanced,  those  learned  friends  had 
a  principal  hand  in  publishing  a  periodical 
work,  entitled,  ''The  Edinburgh  Review," 


28 

Of  this  paper  two  numbers  only  appeared, 
the  first  at  the  commencement  of  the  year 
above  mentioned,  and  the  last  six  months 
after.  In  the  first  of  these,  an  ingenious 
piece  of  criticism  appears  upon  Johnson's 
Didlionary,  in  which  it  is  said  that  the 
Earl  of  Rosslyn  and  Dr.  Smith  were  jointly 
concerned.  Some  of  the  admirers  of  John- 
son have  complained,  that  the  reviewers 
have  hardly  done  justice  to  his  merit,  and 
that  they  have  held  him  forth  as  an  indus- 
trious rather  than  as  an  acute  philologist. 
This  charge  against  them  does  not  seem 
well  founded.  Though  the  author's  plan  is 
not  deemed  unexceptionable,  yet,  in  sug- 
gesting improvements  upon  it,  no  unbe- 
coming asperity  of  language  is  employed 
by  his  critics.  Far  from  wishing  to  detrad: 
from  the  merit  of  the  work,  they  wish  to 
add  to  that  w^hich  they  allow  it  to  possess. 
While  they  regret  that  sufficient  care  had 
not  been  taken  to  distinguish  words  appa- 
rently synonymous,  they  allow  the  high  utir 


29 

lity  of  the  Diftionary,  and  recommend  it  to 
be  used  by  all  those  who  are  desirous  to  cor- 
red:  and  to  improve  their  language. 

In  order  to  make  their  ideas  more  intel- 
ligible, those  ingenious  critics  have  stated 
at  full  length  Dr.  Johnson's  observations 
upon  the  conjundion  But^  and  the  sub- 
stantive Humour^  and  have  afterwards  given 
a  specimen  of  their  own  grammatical  dis- 
cernment, by  first  fixing  the  radical  power 
of  each  of  the  terms,  and  then  marking  how 
all  the  secondary  meanings  spring  from  the 
radical.  Their  logical  deductions,  as  may 
be  expected,  are  equally  subtle  and  cor- 
reft;  but  such  could  not  be  formed  quick- 
ly even  by  superior  minds,  nor  applied  to 
all  the  words  in  the  English  language  du- 
ring the  life  of  a  single  man.  Comparing 
the  merit  of  Dr.  Johnson's  work  with  the 
time  in  which  it  was  executed,  they  applaud 
the  author's  industry,  and  they  state  strongly 
his  claim  to  public  approbation. 

The  same  liberal  spirit  does  not  appear  to 
have  belonged  to  all  the  members  of  thi^^ 


36 

literary  association.  Some  of  them  seem  to 
assume  the  privilege  of  regulating  the  pub- 
lic taste,  and  exercise  that  privilege  w^ith 
a  didatorial  rigour,  which  could  never  im- 
prove it.  Forgetting  the  narrowness  of  the 
country  in  which  they  wrote,  and  the  dis- 
gust to  be  expecfled  under  reproofs  some- 
times groundless  and  often  too  severe,  they 
discouraged  those  literary  efforts  which  they 
professed  to  foster.  Ignorant  of  that  great 
principle  in  the  art  of  teaching,  that  the 
pupil  should  never  be  allowed  to  despise 
himself,  they  either  checked  the  ardour  of 
young  authors,  or  roused  their  indignation. 

This  severity  of  criticism  was  chiefly  ex- 
ercised upon  a  History  of  Crcesus,  King  of 
Lydia  ;  upon  Harvey's  Theron  and  Aspa- 
sio ;  and  upon  Sermons  by  Mr.  Boston  at 
Oxnam,  Mr.  Ebenezer  Erskine  at  Stirling, 
and  Mr.  Johnston  at  Moffat.  All  these  au- 
thors, except  the  last,  either  despised  the 
rude  attack,  or  bore  it  with  patience.  Mr. 
Johnston,   however,    winced  under  a  sense 


SI 

of  its  injustice,  and  in  a  pamphlet  entitled, 
^'  A  View  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  point- 
ing out  the  spirit  and  tendency  of  that  Pa- 
per," convinced  many  that  the  biter  had  been 
biting  himself: — 

Fragili  qiderens  illidere  dcntem, 
Offendit  solido. 

In  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  this 
conjundl  undertaking,  it  fell  upon  Dr.  Blair 
to  review  Dr.  Hutcheson's  ^*  System  of  Mo- 
ral Philosophy.''  This  accident  appears  to 
have  been  alike  fortunate  for  the  author 
and  his  critic.  The  former  presented  a  sub- 
jedt  interesting  in  itself,  and  ably  canvas- 
sed, while  the  latter  possessed  talents  ade- 
quate to  the  task  assigned  him,  which  would 
catch  every  latent  beauty  and  defedt,  and 
scrupulously  measure  the  extent  of  each. 

In  the  review  given  by  Dr.  Blair  of  this 
interesting  work,  the  reader's  attention  is 
not  withdrawn  from  its  proper  objec5l.  No 
vague  and  tedious  dissertation  is  presented. 


by  which  the  critic  can  mean  nothing  but 
to  set  off  himself.  He  supposes  his  reader 
unacquainted  with  the  book,  and  himself 
called  upon  to  give  him  a  view  of  its  con- 
tents. By  no  dogmatical  decision  does  he 
pretend  to  rob  him  of  the  privilege  of  judg- 
ing for  himself;  and  while  with  a  becoming 
spirit  he  declares  his  own  opinions,  he  is 
superior  to  the  petulance  of  wishing  to  ob- 
trude them  upon  others. 

From  perusing  this  criticism,  according- 
ly, a  perfect  notion  may  be  formed  of  its 
subjedl.  As  the  difference  between  Dr.  Hut- 
cheson*s  system,  and  the  systems  of  those 
who  found  moral  approbation  upon  reason, 
upon  sympathy,  upon  truth,  and  upon  self- 
love,  is  clear,  no  time  is  spent  in  stating  it. 
The  apparent  and  the  real  similarity  between 
Dr.  Hutcheson's  and  Lord  Shaftsbury*s  sys- 
tems, however,  require  investigation,  and  in 
marking  the  difference,  the  critic  displays 
his  acuteness.  Though  benevolence  is  the 
leading  principle  in  each,  yet  that  in  the 
noble   author's   is   found   less   disinterested 


33 

than  in  the  other,  and  sentiments,  seemingly 
generous  in  the  former,  are  shown  to  be  ul- 
timately selfish. 

While  Dr.  Blair  does  all  justice,  on  the 
one  hand,  to  the  merits  of  the  system  he  is 
examining,  he  tails  not,  on  the  other,  to 
point  out  its  defeds.  Though  gentle,  he 
is  impartial.  He  exposes  the  inaccuracy 
of  confounding  actions  that  arise  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  with  those  arising  from  a  sim- 
ple approbation  of  the  moral  sense.  Many 
admirers,  for  instance,  of  the  benevolent 
heroism  of  the  Decit,  who  sacrificed  their 
lives  for  the  sake  of  their  country,  feel  no 
inclination  to  imitate  their  condudl  from  a 
sense  of  duty.  The  vsystem  of  Dr.  Hut- 
cheson,  with  all  its  excellence,  is  regarded  as 
somewhat  ideal,  and  as  calculated  to  please 
in  theory,  rather  than  to  assist  in  pradice. 
Virtue  is  held  forth  in  it  as  an  objedt  which 
we  must  admire  and  approve,  rather  than 
as  a  law  for  regulating  our  condudl.  Its 
tendency  seems  to  be,  to  make  virtuous  men 
5 


..34 

better,  not  to  teach  the  bulk  of  mankind 
the  first  principles  of  duty. 

Soon  after  Dr.  Blair  was  translated  to 
the  High  Church,  he  had  an  opportunity 
of  displaying  his  critical  powers  in  a  Dis- 
sertation upon  the  Poems  of  Ossian.  Frag- 
ments of  Gaelic  poetry  had  been  commu- 
nicated to  Mr.  Home,  the  author  of  "  Dou- 
glas,'' by  Mr.  James  Macpherson,  then  a 
student  in  divinity  from  the  Highlands. 
The  merits  of  those  fragments  surprised 
many  of  the  literari  of  Edinburgh.  Anxious 
to  add  to  their  number,  and  to  allow  none 
of  the  remains  of  Gaelic  literature  to  pe- 
rish, they  encouraged  a  subscription  for 
enabling  Mr.  Macpherson  to  traverse  the 
Highlands  in  quest  of  them.  All  that  he 
coUeded  he  translated  and  published.  In 
spite  of  the  acknowledged  taste  and  judg- 
ment of  the  admirers  of  these  poems,  their 
merit  and  their  authenticity  were  soon  ques- 
tioned ;  and  many  Scottish  critics  found 
themselves  called  upon  to  defend  points  in 


35 

which  they  supposed  the  honour  of  theii 
country  to  be  concerned. 

In  this  controversy,  Dr.  Blair  took  an 
early  and  a  conspicuous  part.  He  labour^ 
ed  not  only  to  evince  the  beauty  of  the 
poems  themselves,  but  to  remove  the  im- 
putation of  their  being  literary  forgeries. 
Of  those,  however,  who  attended  to  the  sub- 
ject, a  greater  number  was  disposed  to  agree 
with  him  as  to  the  excellence  of  these  com- 
positions, than  as  to  their  authenticity. 

With  regard  to  what  has  been  urged  a- 
gainst  these  poems,  the  bounds  which  must 
be  observed  in  a  work  of  this  kind,  do  not 
permit  us  to  weigh  the  objedlions  in  a  man- 
ner that  might  enable  us  to  estimate  their 
full  force.  Those,  who  almost  deny  that 
Ossian  has  merit  of  any  kind,  give  a  me- 
lancholy proof  of  incapacity  to  judge.  As 
certainly  as  the  principle  of  taste  exists  in 
the  mind  of  man,  the  poems  of  Ossian  must 
often  command  the  admiration  of  those 
who  possess  it.  Though  the  limited  in- 
formation of  the  bard,  in  rude  times,  gave 


36 

him  little  variety  in  the  subjects  of  his  fi-^ 
gures,  yet  this  circumstance  did  not  blunt 
the  sensibility  of  his  heart.  The  little  he 
saw,  he  saw  corredly ;  and  he  was  feelingly 
alive  to  every  virtuous  and  heroic  impres- 
sion. Though  squeamish  judges  magnify 
trifles,  and  often  censure  without  cause,  yet 
in  those  poems  there  are  splendid  beauties, 
which  the  virulence  of  criticism  dares  not 
to  attack. 

In  proof  of  what  is  now  said,  two  only 
of  many  striking  passages  shall  be  produ- 
ced. Both  are  taken  from  the  poem  enti- 
tled Latbmo?!;  and  the  first  will  admit  of 
a  comparison  with  a  similar  passage  in 
Homer.  In  the  passages  from  both  poets, 
high  parental  affedion  is  the  foundation  of 
the  beauty,  and  both  may  have  suffered  a- 
like  from  being  translated.  The  last  in- 
terview between  Hedtor  and  Andromache, 
near  the  end  of  the  Sixth  Book  of  the 
I/iad,  is  wrought  up  with  a  degree  of  art, 
that  does  honour  even  to  the  genius  of 
Homer.     The  armed  w^arrior  is  held  forth 


37 


as  taking  his  child  into  his  bosonfi,  and 
praying,  in  behalf  of  him,  in  the  following 
emphatic  words :  — 


ZiC,  uK\oi  re  fleoi,  Jon  J^  )t»i  t'ovSi  yivia-iiti 
""aSt  &^^^^  r'  ij-xSov,  ig  'IA-i'd  i<pi  kvutrmV 
*E)c  !r«\f/ttit  iviovTtt'— — — lAlAA.  z,  476. 


^'  O  Jupiter,  and  you  other  Gods  !  grant 
that  this  son  of  mine  may  become,  as  I  am, 
distinguished  among  the  Trojans;  that  he 
may  be  alike  powerful  in  strength  ;  and 
that  he  may  rule  over  Ilium  with  an  irre- 
sistible sway :  And  may  some  person  here- 
after say  of  him  when  returning  from  battle. 
This  man,  indeed,  is  much  braver  than  his 
father.'* 

When  the  aged  warrior  Morni  anxiously 
anticipates  the  fame  of  his  son  in  that  art, 
in  which  he  had  been  distinguished  himself, 
he  uses  the  folio v/ing  words: — '^  I  have  a 
son,  O  Fingal !  Plis  soul  has  delighted  in 
Morni's  deeds  j   but  hia  sword  has  not  been 


38 

lifted  up  against  a  foe,  neither  has  his  fame 
begun.  I  come  with  him  to  war,  to  direct 
his  arm  in  fight.  His  renown  will  be  a 
light  to  my  soul  in  the  dark  hour  of  my 
departure.  O  that  the  name  of  Morni  were 
forgotten  among  the  people !  that  the  heroes 
would  only  say.  Behold  the  Father 
OF  Gaul.'* 

Here  the  Celtic  Bard  not  only  stands  a 
comparison  with  the  Grecian,  when  their 
subjedls  are  the  same,  but  carries  off  the 
palm.  There  is  not  in  the  prayer  of  Hec- 
tor, the  same  high  generosity  as  in  that  of 
Morni.  Glowing  as  the  Trojan  warrior's 
attachment  is,  he  does  not  forget  himself; 
but  he  first  prays,  that  his  son  may  be  his 
equal  in  eminence  among  the  Trojans,  and 
then  only  his  superior  in  military  renown. 
The  ardour  of  Mox-ni's  parental  afiedion, 
again,  leads  him  to  renounce  every  thing 
personal.  His  own  lustre  in  arms  he  is 
wilUng  to  sacrifice  to  the  fame  of  his  son. 
Between   his  love  to  him,    and  his  love  to 


39 

military  glory,  there  is  a  struggle,  in  which 
the  former  decidedly  prevails.  He  prays, 
that  his  own  exploits  may  be  buried  in  obli- 
vion, upon  the  single  condition,  to  which 
his  high  mind  could  submit;  and,  with  ex- 
quisite delicacy,  wishes  to  live  in  the  re- 
membrance of  posterity,  only  as  the  father 
of  Gaul. 

This  young  hero  soon  shews  himself  wor- 
thy of  such  a  father,  when  he  and  Ossian, 
who  speaks  in  the  following  passage,    ap- 
proached the  sleeping  foe: — *' We  came  to 
the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  saw  the  sleep- 
ing host.     Their  fires  were  decayed  on  the 
plain  :  the  lonely  steps  of  their  scouts  were 
distant   far.      I   stretched  my  spear  before 
me,  to  support  my  steps  over  the  stream. 
But  Gaul  took  my   hand,    and    spoke   the 
words  of  the  brave.     Shall  the  son  of  Fin- 
gal  rush  on  the  sleeping  foe  ?  Shall  he  come 
like  a  blast  by  night,  when  it  overturns  the 
young  trees  in  secret  ?    Fingal  did  not  thus 
receive  his  fame,  nor  dwells  renovv'n  on  the 
grey  hairs  of  Morni  for  aftions  like  these. 


40 

Strike,  Ossian,  strike  the  shield,  and  let  their 
thousands  rise !  Let  them  meet  Gaul  in  his 
first  battle,  that  he  may  try  the  strength 
of  his  arm.'*  A  sentiment  of  more  digni- 
fied magnanimity  is  not  to  be  met  with  in 
any  poet.  If  the  maxims  of  modern  war- 
fare were  repugnant  to  this,  they  would  be 
at  variance  with  the  finest  feelings  of  the 
human  heart.  The  classics  of  Greece  and 
of  Rome  present  nothing  more  noble;  and 
were  we  to  search  those  classics  for  a  pas- 
sage to  contrast  with  that  now  quoted,  we 
might  perhaps  search  in  vain. 

V/hatever  doubts  arose  formerly,  either 
as  to  the  authenticity,  or  the  beauty,  of  the 
Poems  of  Ossian,  none  were  ever  heard  of 
as  to  the  merit,  of  the  Dissertation,  in  which 
both  were  vindicated. 

The  talents  of  its  author  were  admired 
even  by  those,  whom  they  did  not  con- 
vince. Supposing  the  value  of  the  Poems 
to  have  been  overrated,  yet  the  canon  by 
which  that  value  was  tried,  was  scrupu- 
lously correal.    The  critic  of  Ossian  did  not 


41 


gaze  upon  the  beauties  of  his  author  with 
senseless    admiration,     ''  ut  pue?^i   Jimoms 
avem,"  but  marked  the  circumstance  which 
gave   existence    to    each.       He    discovered 
equal  sensibility  to  the  magnanimity  of  the 
hero,  and   to  the  tenderness  of  the  parent. 
He    traced    the   line   of  poetic   description 
with   an   accuracy  before   unexampled,    and 
made  it  rest  on  the  judicious  seledbon  of  a 
few   of  the  charadteristic   circumstances  in 
the  objea;  described.     The  eccentric  play  of 
Ossian's  genius  was  brought  to  that  genuine 
standard,  to  which  every  poet  in  every  age 
must   submit;    and   those   varied   beauties, 
which  of  old  struck  the  untutored  taste  of 
the  Northern  tribes,  were  referred  to  certain 
great    principles    in    human   nature,    which 
time  cannot  change. 

Bold  as  the  attempt  was,  it  soon  appear- 
ed to  those,  on  whom  nature  has  confer- 
red a  quick  sensibility  to  beauty,  that  the 
powers  of  the  critic  were  completely  equal 
to  it.  By  means  of  the  ingenuity  displayed 
in  an  Essay,  which  combined  the  subtlety 
6 


42 

of  Aristotle  with  the  elegance  of  Longinus, 
a  new  aera  was  established  in  literature. 
From  an  able  development  of  the  laws  of 
one  species  of  poetry,  inferences  were  de- 
duced, which  applied,  in  a  certain  degree, 
to  every  other.  Polite  literature  v/as  found 
entitled  to  take  its  place  among  the  sci- 
ences. In  the  decisions  of  taste,  whether 
gratified  or  otherwise,  one  principle  was 
found  uniformly  to  operate.  As  certainly 
as  beauty  exists,  it  was  proved,  that  it  has 
its  own  laws,  and  that  the  capriciousness, 
falsely  ascribed  to  taste,  arises  from  nothing 
but  an  hasty,  and  of  course  an  illegitimate 
induftion,  by  those  who  canvass  its  sub- 
jed:s. 

The  fame  of  this  elegant  and  ingenious 
criticism  was  not  confined  to  the  country 
that  gave  birth  to  its  author.  In  judging 
of  the  ability  of  the  critic,  the  public  did 
not  wait  to  ascertain  either  the  authenticity 
of  his  subjed,  or  the  extent  of  its  merit. 
Men  of  taste  were  pleased  with  the  disco- 
very of  a  fixed  principle  for  regulating  their 


43 

decisions,  in  whatever  way  it  had  been 
made.  They  deemed  it  no  small  accession 
to  the  stores  of  literature,  and  found  them- 
selves furnished  with  a  new  standard,  to 
which  the  produdlions  of  poetical  genius 
might  be  safely  referred. 

For  the  space  of  eighteen  years  after  Dr. 
Blair  began  to  read  Ledures  upon  Rheto- 
toric  and  Belles  Lettres,  he  found  full  room 
for  the  exercise  of  his  powers.  His  repu- 
tation as  a  preacher  was  then  so  high,  that 
no  ordinary  exertion  was  sufficient  to  support 
it.  Of  this  he  seems  to  have  been  aware. 
In  no  instance  was  he  ever  disposed  to  take 
credit  for  past  acquirements,  but  shewed 
himself  unwilling  to  forego  that  approbation, 
which  the  public  had  bestowed  liberally,  and 
of  which  he  felt  the  value.  In  discharging 
the  duties  both  of  a  Clergyman  and  of  a  Pro- 
fessor, he  exhibited  a  meritorious  zeal;  and 
from  his  uncommon  industry,  the  labours 
of  his  pulpit  never  interfered  with  those  of 
his  academical  chair. 


44 

In  coUecTbing  materials  for  his  Ledures, 
he  found  a  field  before  him  that  was  ex- 
tensive, and,  in  this  country,  almost  un- 
trodden. Though  British  genius  had  dis^ 
played  itself  in  different  departments  of  li- 
terature, yet  the  principles  of  taste  were 
not  so  correctly  ascertained,  as  to  form  a 
rule  forjudging  of  its  exertions.  Dr.  Smith 
was  the  first  person  who  read  Lecftures  in 
Edinburgh  upon  Rhetoric  ;  and  in  this 
branch  of  science  shewed  the  same  origi- 
nal talents  that  distinguished  him  in  others. 
When  he  went  to  Glasgow  as  Professor 
of  Logic,  Lectures  upon  the  same  subjed: 
were  read  by  Dr.  Watson,  who  afterwards 
became  Professor  of  that  Science  at  St. 
Andrews.  Lord  Kames  published  his  Ele- 
ments of  Criticism  after  Dr.  Blair  had 
begun  to  read  Ledures  privately,  and  be- 
fore his  Majesty  eredted  and  endowed  his 
estabhshment  in  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh. 

After  reading  his  course  of  Lectures  in 
the  University  above  twenty  years,  Dr,  Blair 


45 

found  it  proper  to  publish  them  in  1783. 
He  tells  us  in  his  preface,  that  their  publi- 
cation then  was  not  altogether  a  matter  of 
choice.  Imperfed:  copies,  in  manuscript, 
had  been  exposed  to  sale,  and  from  them 
quotations  had  appeared  in  the  Biographia 
Brittannica.  It  became  necessary,  accord- 
ingly, that  the  Ledtures  should  proceed 
from  his  own  hand,  rather  than  come  into 
public  view  under  some  very  defedive  and 
erroneous  form. 

It  must  be  apparent  to  every  attentive 
reader,  that  Dr.  Blair  was  much  more  anxious 
to  compose  Ledlures  that  might  become 
distinguished  for  their  utility,  than  for  their 
depth.  His  object  was  to  initiate  youth 
into  a  study,  w^ith  which  the  country  at 
large  was  but  little  acquainted.  His  pu- 
pils had  undergone  no  preparatory  disci- 
pline in  the  science,  to  which  they  applied 
themselves.  Subtle  discussions  from  their 
teacher  would  have  been,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree,   misapplied,    and   the   stability  of  the 


46 

stru(5lure  might  l^ave  been  impaired,  had  the 
foundation  not  been  securely  laid. 

As  the  author  of  those  Ledlures  did  not 
pique  himself  upon  their  depth,  so  neither 
did  he  boast  of  their  originality.  Upon 
every  subject  treated  of,  he  tells  us  that  he 
had  thought  for  himself,  but  that  he  avail- 
ed himself  occasionally  of  the  ideas  of 
others.  He  felt  it  his  duty  to  convey  to 
his  pupils  all  the  knowledge  that  could  im- 
prove them.  By  borrowmg  from  others,  he 
understood,  that  he  not  only  enlarged  the 
mass,  but  gave  a  value  to  the  parts  of  it,  of 
which  they  might  otherwise  have  been  des- 
titute. 

But  whatever  reason  Dr.  Blair  might  see 
to  accommodate  his  Led:ures  to  the  capaci- 
ty of  young  men,  who  were  novices  in  his 
science,  it  has  been  urged  by  some,  that 
he  carried  his  desire  of  doing  so  too  far. 
No  great  effort,  they  tell  us,  is  requisite  to 
apprehend  principles  legitimately  formed, 
and  clearly  stated.  If  a  teacher  establish 
no  principles,   he  trifles  with  those  whom 


4r 

he  pretends  to  instrudt.  He  refuses  to  sa- 
tisfy the  appetite  which  he  raises,  and  ge- 
nius must  languish  for  want  of  its  proper 
food.  Though  superfijial  thinkers  decry 
metaphysical  discussion,  because  they  dread 
its  effects,  yet  nothing  is  so  bad  as  the  total 
want  of  it.  It  exposes  the  falsehood  of 
those  theories  which  exist  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  petulant,  and  it  evolves  the 
truth,  by  a  nice  discrimination  of  facSts, 
which  pretenders  in  science  have  neither  dis- 
cernment nor  industry  to  colled:. 

With  all  the  merit  which  Dr.  Blair's  Lec- 
tures possess,  it  must  be  allowed,  that  the 
objection  mentioned  is  in  some  degree  ap- 
plicable to  them.  By  being  too  modest,  or 
too  timid,  he  rarely  has  the  boldness  to 
hazard  a  general  remark.  What  many  have 
said,  and  almost  all  believe,  he  states  with 
confidence;  and,  by  an  unfortunate  distrust 
of  his  own  powers,  he  is  apt  to  excite  doubts 
in  others,  by  betraying  them  in  himself. 
He,  who  makes  his  pupils  exercise  their  own 
talents,  does  them  a  real  service  ;  and  it  i^ 


48 

better,  perhaps,  to  establish  principles  that 
are  questionable,  than  to  establish  none. 

In  resped  to  the  vigour  and  the  correct- 
ness of  the  principle  of  taste.  Dr.  Blair  had* 
few  rivals,  and  no  superiors.  In  him  this 
power  was  feelingly  alive  to  the  slightest 
impulse,  and  it  separated  the  spurious  from 
the  genuine  with  unerring  delicacy.  Lord 
Karnes,  who  had  studied  the  subjed:  of 
Belles  Lettres  before  the  Dodtor  was  known 
to  have  done  so,  and  who  was  the  first  in 
this  country  that  attempted  to  reduce  it  to 
a  system,  does  not  catch  beauties  and  de- 
fers with  the  same  nice  apprehension.  In 
point  of  originality,  at  the  same  time,  and 
of  that  inventive  power,  which  traces  and 
establishes  principles  in  the  science,  his 
Lordship  is  much  superior.  Some  of  his 
theories  may  perhaps  be  false,  and  others 
whimsical ;  but  in  all  of  them  there  is  inge- 
nuity, and  in  many  of  them  much  truth. 
Whatever  advantage  the  former  critic  had 
in  the  delicate  precision  of  his  taste,  the 
latter  seems  to  have  possessed  in  the  force 


49 

of  his  genius.  By  every  scientific  inquirer, 
accordingly,  the  Elements  of  Criticism  must 
be  regarded  as  a  valuable  mine,  that  v^ill  not 
soon  be  exhausted. 

After  the  publication  of  Lord  Karnes's 
Elements  of  Criticism,  and  before  that  of 
Dr.  Blair's  Ledlures,  Dr.  Campbell  of  Aber- 
deen produced  his  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric. 
This  work,  consisting  of  a  number  of  essays, 
which  may  be  viewed  either  separately,  or 
as  forming  one  whole,  is  less  systematic  than 
those  that  went  before  it.  Its  author,  with 
that  modesty  which  is  often  the  attendant 
of  genius,  undertakes  less  than  he  shews 
himself  able  to  do.  It  is  clear,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  had  read  much,  and  thought 
deeply,  upon  his  subjed:,  and  that  his  mind, 
naturally  acute  and  sagacious,  throws  light 
upon  any  thing  to  which  he  chose  to  di- 
redl  it.  Along  with  delicate  feeling,  he 
discovers  high  metaphysical  power ;  and 
his  ingenious  and  original  disquisitions  will 
probably  rise  in  estimation,  as  men  become 
more  able  to  follow  them. 

7 


50 

In  the  first  part  of  Dr.  Blair's  Ledtures, 
where  he  analyses  the  power  of  taste,  and 
states  the  different  sources  of  its  pleasures, 
we  meet  with  many  sound  and  interesting 
observations.  While  handling  such  sub- 
jed:s,  he  derived  advantages  from  nature, 
which  she  had  denied  to  many.  With 
every  avenue  to  knowledge  possessed  by 
others,  in  viewing  the  different  species  of 
beauty,  and  marking  their  effedls  upon 
those  around  him,  he  enjoyed  a  privilege 
peculiar  to  himself.  He  had  only  to  look 
into  his  own  mind,  in  order  to  catch  the 
general  law,  which  operates  upon  that  of 
others,  and  could  thus  delineate  the  power, 
so  as  to  suit  the  diversities  in  which  man- 
kind exhibit  it.  While  he  denies  that  it  is 
an  arbitrary  principle,  to  which  no  criterion 
is  applicable,  he  talks  of  no  appeal  to  the 
judgment  of  one,  or  a  few,  for  ascertaining 
beauty  in  the  works  of  nature  and  of  art. 
The  genuine  taste  of  the  human  species  is 
made  to  rest  on  what,  in  all  ages  and  coun- 
tries, has  given  it  the  highest  and  the  most 


61 

extensive  delight.  In  matters  of  feeling,  as 
well  as  of  intelled:,  established  laws  are 
said  to  prevail,  and  the  difference  between 
beauty  and  deformity  to  be,  in  fad,  as  im- 
mutable, as  that  between  truth  and  false- 
hood. 

The  same  difference  is  made  to  exist  be- 
tween the  sublime  and  the  beautiful,  by  Dr. 
Blair,  as  by  other  writers  on  the  subjed:. 
To  the  term  sublimity  two  meanings  are 
afHxed;  that  is,  it  denotes  both  the  emo- 
tion excited  in  the  mind,  and  the  quality 
in  the  objed  that  excites  it.  Beauty,  again, 
is  confined  to  the  objecft,  without  any  re- 
gard to  the  emotion.  The  feelings  raised 
by  each,  seem  to  be  too  nearly  a-kin  to  be 
separated,  as  they  generally  are.  If  an  ob- 
jedt,  in  itself  beautiful,  be  rendered  great, 
it  becomes  sublime.  Agreeableness  is  the 
genus,  of  which  beauty  and  sublimity  are 
the  species;  and,  though  the  former  may 
exist  by  itself,  yet,  where  there  is  the  least 
deformity,  the  latter  is  extinguished.  Dr. 
Blair  mentions  several  theories,  which  have 


52 

been  given  by  different  authors,  as  to  the 
origin  of  those  emotions  styled  sublime. 
He  states  that  of  Mr.  Burke,  with  the  re- 
spedl  due  to  the  force  and  originality  of  his 
genius.  Though  he  allows  it  to  be  inge- 
nious, yet  he  doubts  if  it  is  solid ;  while,  at 
the  same  time,  he  proposes  nothing,  with 
any-  confidence,  to  be  substituted  in  its 
place. 

In  the  second  part  of  Dr.  Blair*s  Lec- 
tures, which  treats  of  the  structure  of  lan- 
guage, his  timidity,  as  a  philosophical  in- 
quirer, is  more  apparent  than  any  where. 
Of  the  importance  and  the  difficulty  of  the 
subjed:,  he  seems  to  have  been  completely 
aware.  Few  authors,  he  tells  us,  have 
treated  this  science,  in  which  a  deep  and 
refined  logic  is  employed,  with  the  accu- 
racy it  deserves.  He  regrets,  that  superfi- 
cial thinkers  slight  it,  as  belonging  to  those 
rudiments  of  knowledge,  which  were  incul- 
cated upon  us  in  our  earliest  youth  ;  and 
he  attributes  to  the  ignorance  of  it,  many 


ss 


of  those  fundamental  defefts  which  appear 


in  writing. 


From  these  preUminary  observations,  it 
was  to  have  been  expecfted,  that,  in  estabhsh- 
ing  a  theory  of  speech,  former  errors  would 
have  been  exploded,  and  the  utmost  accura- 
cy introduced.  Every  attempt,  however,  to 
expose  and  to  amend  what  is  faulty,  is  de- 
clined. The  common  division  of  speech 
into  eight  parts,  is  condemned  as  illogical, 
which  it  undoubtedly  is.  We  are  told,  at 
the  same  time,  that,  as  the  old  terms  are 
those  to  which  our  ears  have  been  most 
familiarised,  and  as  an  exadl  logical  division 
is  of  no  great  consequence  to  the  present  pur- 
pose, it  is  better  to  make  use  of  those  known 
terms  than  of  any  other. 

When  a  system,  seen  to  be  erroneous,  is 
voluntarily  embraced,  nothing  luminous  is 
to  be  expected.  The  slightest  error  at  the 
outest  must  affed:  every  step  in  the  pro- 
gress ;  and  though,  in  certain  cases,  the 
conclusions  be  not  the  same  with  those  of 


54 

former  inquirers,  they  must  be  alike  unpro- 
fitable. 

The  third  part  of  Dr.  Blair's  Leilures, 
which  relates  to  style,  is  by  much  the  most 
useful  of  the  whole  work.  In  this,  the  au- 
thor discovers  high  critical  ability  -,  and  is 
fortunate  in  explaining  his  rules,  by  apply- 
ing them  to  passages  in  writers  of  distin- 
guished eminence.  A  laudable  zeal  is  seen 
upon  the  part  of  the  teacher  to  communicate 
useful  instrudtion ;  and  he  is  wonderfully 
successful,  in  giving  to  each  of  his  Ledlures, 
upon  the  subjed:  of  Style,  almost  every  ex- 
cellence that  can  belong  to  a  didadtic  dis- 
course. All  ornament  in  the  language  seems 
to  be  studiously  avoided.  Nothing  drops 
from  the  pen  of  the  author,  which  might 
divert  the  reader's  attention  from  its  proper 
objedl.  Perspicuity  alone  is  courted;  and 
by  so  great  a  master  in  the  art  of  writing,  it 
is  completely  attained. 

In  this  part  of  the  course,  three  Ledlures 
are  set  apart  for  giving  rules  with  regard  to 
the  construftion  of  sentences.      Aristotle's 


55 

definition  of  a  sentence  is  considered  as  a 
good  one : — **  A  form  of  speech  having  a 
beginning  and  an  end  within  itself,  and  of 
such  a  length,  as  to  be  easily  comprehend- 
ed." Sentences  are  viewed  in  resped:  to 
their  clearness,  their  unity,  their  strength, 
and  their  harmony.  Instances  from  authors 
of  note  are  produced,  in  some  of  which 
these  qualities  are  shewn  to  be  conspicu- 
cuous,  and  in  others  to  be  deficient.  The 
learned  critic  does  not  degrade  his  talents, 
by  uttering  any  thing  that  is  scurrilous, 
or  illiberal.  Knowing  the  difficulty  of  the 
art  which  he  professed,  he  makes  every 
allowance  for  those  who  occasionally  fail 
in  it.  With  a  taste  that  could  measure 
scrupulously  every  beauty  and  every  defedt, 
he  is  always  more  disposed  to  praise  than 
to  censure;  and  in  correding  slips  which 
he  felt  strongly,  he  discovers  the  most  a- 
miable  candour. 

Under  the  article  of  Style,  Dr.  Blair  treats 
of  the  origin  and  nature  of  the  figures  oi 
rhetoric.     Here  a  fine  field  is  presented  for 


56 

the  display  of  his  taste  ^  of  the  strength  of 
which,  in  spite  of  his  modesty,  he  seems 
luckily  conscious.  In  seledling  instances^ 
with  a  view  to  explain  the  nature  of  Meta- 
phor, Hyperbole,  Prosopopeia,  Apostrophe, 
and  other  figures  of  speech,  we  have  equal 
reason  to  admire  his  industry  and  his  judg- 
ment. As  soon  as  he  apprehended  the  ex- 
istence, he  marked  the  cause  of  every  beauty 
and  defe(3:.  His  feeling,  in  regard  to  both, 
was  correft,  as  well  as  strong ;  and  the  deli- 
cate instinct,  which  led  to  the  immediate 
perception  of  each,  was  accompanied  with 
an  exercise  of  judgment,  which  measured 
its  precise  extent. 

Though  many  curious  observations  are 
made  by  Dr.  Blair,  Lord  Karnes,  and  Dr. 
Campbell^  upon  the  Philosophy  of  Rheto- 
rical Figures,  yet  the  subjed:  is  by  no  means 
exhausted.  Much  ingenuity  may  yet  be 
shewn  in  tracing  the  principle  upon  which 
they  respectively  operate,  and  in  marking 
the  boundaries  by  which  they  are  distin- 
guished.    It  was  no  small  loss  to  the  lite- 


57 

rary  world,  that  Dr.  Smith  ordered  his  ma- 
nuscripts on  the  subjed:  to  be  destroyed, 
because  they  appeared  to  himself  to  be  in 
some  degree  imperfedl.  Theories  by  a  mind 
like  his,  though  incomplete,  must  have 
thrown  light  upon  their  subjedl,  and  sug- 
gested hints,  which  others  might  have  pur- 
sued. It  was  alleged  by  him  and  his  friends, 
that  Dr.  Blair  had  availed  himself  largely  of 
his  remarks,  both  on  the  construdion  of 
sentences,  and  on  the  general  charaders  of 
style.  In  this  case,  however,  there  was 
no  plagiarism.  Dr.  Blair  tells  us  in  a  note, 
that  several  ideas  upon  the^^e  subjeds  had 
been  taken  from  a  manuscript  treatise  on 
Rhetoric  shewn  him  by  the  learned  and 
ingenious  author  Dr.  Adam  Smith ;  and 
which,  it  was  hoped,  would  be  given  by  him 
to  the  public.  It  is  the  wish  of  a  plagiarist 
to  shine  in  borrowed  feathers,  which  Dr. 
Blair  disdained.  He  avowed  his  obligation 
to  his  learned  friend  ^  and  understood  when 
he  did  so,  that  the  public  would  have  it  in 
their  power  to  judge  of  its  extent. 
8 


58 

The  laudable  anxiety  of  Dr.  Blair  to  give 
every  possible  instrudion,  with  regard  to 
style,  is  further  visible  in  a  critical  examina- 
tion of  four  papers  in  the  Spectator,  and  of 
a  passage  in  the  writings  of  Dean  Swift.  In 
the  jfive  Lectures  containing  this,  every  rule 
formerly  given  is  turned  to  immediate  use. 
Whatever  may  have  been  obscure  in  theory 
is  rendered  clear  in  pradice,  and  every  stu- 
dent feels  himself  furnished  with  a  canon 
for  judging  of  the  style  of  others,  and  for 
regulating  his  own. 

After  finishing  what  relates  to  style.  Dr. 
Blair  ascends  a  step  higher,  and  examines 
the  subjedts  on  which  style  is  employed. 
He  treats  of  eloquence,  or  the  different 
kinds  of  public  speaking,  as  exhibited  in 
popular  assemblies,  at  the  bar,  and  in  the 
pulpit.  He  defines  eloquence  with  great 
precision,  and  exposes  the  mistaken  notions 
which  men  entertain  with  regard  to  it.  He 
compares  the  state  of  the  art  in  ancient  and 
modern  times,  and  the  merits  of  two  illus- 
trious orators,  Demosthenes  and  Cicero. 


59 

In  comparing  orators,  whose  praftice  was 
the  standard  of  excellence  in  their  respec- 
tive countries,  much  critical  ability  is  dis- 
played. From  the  merit  of  Cicero,  there 
seems  to  be  no  disposition  to  detradt.  His 
powers  of  embellishing  his  subjecft,  and  of 
prejudicing  his  hearers  in  his  favour,  are 
spoken  of  as  they  deserve.  For  the  discern- 
ment of  those  French  critics,  who  give  him 
the  preference  to  his  rival,  all  resped:  is 
shewn;  though  in  this  opinion  Dr.  Blair 
refuses  to  acquiesce.  He  agrees  with  Mr. 
Hume,  who,  in  his  Essay  upon  Eloquence, 
declares,  that,  of  all  human  produdions,  the 
orations  of  Demosthenes  approach  the  near- 
est to  perfedion.  He  complains,  that  the 
art  of  the  Roman  orator  is,  on  all  occasions, 
too  obvious ;  and  that,  in  the  midst  of  high 
sentiments  of  patriotism,  his  hearer  is  often 
disturbed  with  some  trifling  attention  to 
himself.  He  quotes  Fenelon,  as  expressing 
sentiments  that  coincide  with  his  own:-— 
''  Je  ne  crains  pas  dire  que  Demosthene  me 
paroit  super  ieiir  a  Ciceron^      ye  pro  teste  que 


60 

per  Sonne  n  admire  plus  Ciceron  que  je  Jcas, 
II  embellit  tout  ce  quil  tonche,  11  fait  ho- 
72eiir  a  la  parole.  II  fait  des  mots  ce  qiiun 
autre  nen  saurott  Jaire.  II  a,je  ne  sais  com- 
bien  de  sortes  d' esprit s.  II  est  meme  court  ct 
'vehement y  toutes  les  jois  quil  veut  I'etre; 
contre  Catiline^  contre  Verres^  contre  Antoine, 
Mais  on  remarque  quelque  parure  dans  son 
disc  ours.  Uart  y  est  merveilleux -,  mais  on 
Vent  revolt,  Uorateur  en  pensant  au  salut  de 
la  repuhlique  ne  s  oublie  pas,  et  ne  se  laisse 
pas  oublier'' 

The  rhetorical  powers  of  Demosthenes 
are  held  forth,  as  being  of  a  higlier  order 
than  those  of  Cicero,  and  also  as  being  dif- 
ferent in  kind.  Of  the  former,  vigour  and 
austerity  are  made  the  charad:eristics ;  and 
of  the  latter,  gentleness  and  insinuation. 
The  simplicity  of  the  style  of  Demosthenes 
is  said  to  suit  the  energy  of  his  thoughts.  No 
studied  ornament  in  the  one  interrupts  the 
rapid  course  of  the  other.  Bold  as  his  figures 
often  are,  they  appear  the  fruit  of  no  effort; 
and   the  precise   train  of  conceptions   that 


61 


existed  in  the  mind  of  the  orator  is  trans- 
fused into  his  audience  with  inimitable  art. 
Dr.  Blair  appeals  again  to  the  elegant  and 
corred  taste  of  the   Archbishop  of  Cam- 
bray: — ^'  Demosthe?ie  paroit  sortir  de  sot^  et 
ne  voir  que  la  patrie.     II  ne  c  here  he  point  Ic 
beau ;  //  le  fait,  sans  y  penser.    II  est  au  dessus 
de   r    admiration.       II  se  sert  de  la  parole 
comme  un  homme  modeste  de  son  habit ,  pour 
secouvrir.     Ilto?2?iey  il  foudroye.     Cest  un 
torrent  qui  entraine  tout.    On  ne  peut  le  en- 
tiquer^  parcequ    on  est  saisi.     On  pense  aux 
choses  qiiil  dity    et  non  a  ses  paroles.      On 
le  perde  de  vue.     On   nest  occupe    que   dc 
Philippe,  qui  envahit  tout.     Je  suis  char  me, 
de  ces  deux  orateurs-,  jnaisj'avoue  que  je  suis 
mot7is  touche  de  V  art  injini,  et  de  la  magni- 
fique  eloquence  de  Ciceron,    que  de  la  raptde 
simplicite  de  DemostheneJ' 

In  order  to  exemplify  that  high  species 
of  eloquence,  which  Demosthenes  exhibits 
so  successfully  against  Philip  of  Macedon, 
Dr.  Blair  gives  large  extrads  from  his  Phi- 
lippics and  Olynthiacs.     In  these  extrads. 


62. 

which,  unfortunately,  are  in  Enghsh  only, 
the  beauties  of  the  original  can  be  but  im- 
perfectly seen.  There  is  one  passage  in 
them  which  we  shall  take  the  liberty  to 
quote  in  both  languages,  as  being  at  pre- 
sent particularly  interesting,  and  stnciiy 
applicable  to  the  times.  What  Demos- 
thenes did  among  the  Athenians,  Britain 
to  the  immortal  honour  of  those  who  now 
dired  her  councils,  has  long  done,  and  is 
still  doing,  among  the  nations  of  Europe. 
With  a  magnanimous,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  a  humane  attention  to  their  interests, 
she  has  been  their  faithful  monitor  as  to  evils, 
which  some  of  them,  by  disregarding  her 
warnings,  now  experience,  and  which  others 
have  reason  to  dread. 

^*J,     sJ^»     OVTI     TWW    (TUjK^egOVTci'V     OuTE     TMlV     5«6vT<2v    7T^«.^cH     SxjV»jHs6»'    OvS\    OVfijvXI,     sic 

^lO^jtMv,  Tov  %qoviv  Xig5'av»i  TBTOi;,  'iv  xK>.iig  v.Tr'oKKxiTctt,  'ixx^o;  eyva-Jtij,  il;  yi  juo$  Sox-tr 
«i)X  o-rjo;  9MknToi,i  ri  T<tii>  'EiKKviViav  tnOTriuv ,  iSi  Tr^eLTTuv'  iarti,  ort  ys  Hr"'-?  '«f  lO^Of  ^ 
xxrji^aKk  TTU^trS,  it  Tfco?  uKKa  n»*.i,  "»«  r^i  ttxvv  sto^Jim  Soxovvti  vvV  »^8f«y»»  ^r^aci^yj. 
Tpy,  i?«j  iyvosr  J(i:Tcu. AHMO20.  RATA  *IAUI.  AOF.  TPIT. 


63 

**  Neither  Greece,  nor  the  other  nations 
of  the  earth,  afford  sufficient  scope  for  this 
man's  ambition.  Yet  all  we  Greeks,  who 
see  and  who  hear  these  things,  send  no  em- 
bassies with  regard  to  them  to  each  other, 
nor  do  we  feel  the  indignation  that  becomes 
us.  Such  is  the  state  of  degradation  in 
which  we  now  lie,  and  such  is  the  mean 
security  which  we  court,  by  keeping  with- 
in our  cities,  that  even  to  this  very  day  we 
have  been  able  to  perform  none  of  those 
things  which  our  interest  and  our  duty  re- 
quire. We  make  no  common  stand,  and  we 
form  no  league  for  our  common  defence. 
But  we  behold  this  man  becoming  mo^e 
and  more  powerful,  while  each  of  us,  as 
far  as  I  can  judge,  supposes,  that  the  time 
daring  which  he  is  destroying  another  is  a 
respite  gained  to  himself.  No  one  of  us 
judges  as  to  those  means,  or  performs  those 
ailions,  by  which  Greece  is  to  be  saved  from 
destru(5lion.  No  man,  at  the  same  time,  is 
ignorant,  that,  hke  the  regular  paroxysm  of 
a  fever,  or  of  some  other  noxious  disease,  he 


64 

is  coming  upon  those,  who  beheve  the  dan- 
ger to  be  now  at  a  distance." 

When  Dr.  Blair  comes  to  treat  of  the 
eloquence  of  the  Pulpit,  he  stands  upon 
ground  that  is  entirely  his  own.  Upon  this 
subjed:  he  could  borrow  from  no  body  who 
was  capable  of  instruding  him.  His  suc- 
cess in  the  art  of  preaching  had  proved  the 
soundness  of  every  rule  he  adopted,  and 
established  his  right  to  dired:  others  in  a  de- 
partment, where  he  exhibited  so  distinguish- 
ed a  pattern. 

The  same  talent  that  led  Dr.  Blair  to 
such  eminence  as  a  preacher,  fitted  him  also 
to  judge  ably  of  the  condud  of  every  kind 
of  discourse.  Many  rules  in  composition 
are  so  general,  as  to  apply  equally  to  them 
all.  The  same  law  holds  in  each,  in  re- 
gard to  the  introdudion,  to  the  division, 
to  the  parts  that  are  narrative  and  argu- 
mentative, and  to  the  peroration.  In  the 
Ledures  upon  those  subjeds,  accordingly, 
much  valuable  information  is  to  be  found. 
No  wild  theory  is  offered,  in  which  the  au- 


65 

thor  had  exercised  his  fancy  more  than  his 
judgment;  but  every  rule  rests  on  the  tes- 
timony of  experience,  and  may  with  safety 
be  carried  into  pracflice. 

In  the  fifth  and  last  part  of  Dr.  Blair's 
Leftures,  he  treats  of  the  different  species 
of  literary  composition.  He  begins  with 
historical  writing,  and  defines  the  nature  of 
that,  which  is  properly  the  subjed:  of  criti- 
cism. The  primary  qualities  of  a  great 
historian  are  marked  with  precision;  and 
the  charafter  of  those  illustrious  writers  is 
given,  in  whom  they  were  most  conspicu- 
ous. To  the  high  powers  of  Tacitus,  among 
the  ancients,  all  justice  is  done.  The  phi- 
losopher, the  poet,  and  the  historian,  we 
are  told,  all  meet  in  him ;  though  with  rare 
accomplishments  he  exhibits  considerable 
defed:s. 

The  concluding  Lectures  in  Dr.  Blair's 
course  treat  of  Poetry  in  all  its  varieties. 
The  Laws  of  Pastoral,  Lyric,  Epic,  Comic, 
and  Tragic  Poetry,  are  accurately  unfold- 
ed ;  and  in  doing  so,  he  writes  with  a  bold- 
9 


66. 

ness,  which,  in  the  abstradt  speculations 
respefting  taste  and  universal  grammar,  he 
never  assumes.  When  he  borrow^s  from  the 
French  critics,  he  does  so  judiciously.  His 
own  observations  are  such,  as  to  bear  a 
comparison  with  the  best,  of  which  he  avails 
himself  j  and  he  estimates  the  merit  of  poets, 
both  ancient  and  modern,  by  applying  their 
works  to  a  standard,  in  which  there  is  nei- 
ther partiality  nor  prejudice. 

From  the  general  view  taken  of  Dr.  Blair's 
Le(ftures,  it  may  perhaps  appear,  that  though 
they  are  not  the  most  masterly  of  his  works, 
yet  they  do  no  discredit  to  his  reputation. 
Much  was  expedled  from  them  at  the  time 
they  were  published.  The  criticism  on 
Ossian's  Poems  had  been  universally  ad- 
mired. Those  who  denied  their  authenti- 
city, and  those  who  held  their  merit  to  be 
overrated,  agreed  with  their  antagonists  in 
applauding  the  standard  by  which  that  me- 
rit was  tried.  The  fame  of  its  author  as  a 
preacher  had  long  been  established.  The 
Sermons,  which  he  delivered  from  the  pul- 


61 

pit,  had  delighted  many  an  audience,  and 
the  few  which  had  then  issued  from  the 
press  convinced  every  candid  reader,  that 
their  intrinsic  excellence  could  set  the  pe- 
tulance and  the  rigour  of  criticism  at  defi- 
ance. 

The  unrivalled  charafter,  then,  which  Dr. 
Blair  had  acquired  in  his  profession,  when 
his  Ledures  first  appeared,  made  it  no  easy 
matter  to  satisfy  the  public  expectation . 
To  them  the  keenest  edge  of  criticism  was 
applied,  and  slips,  which  would  have  passed 
unnoticed  from  the  pen  of  another,  were 
rigorously  marked,  when  coming  from  his. 
Much  was  said  as  to  the  want  of  vigour, 
both  in  the  thought  and  the  composition. 
Though  his  disquisitions  as  to  grammar 
were  declared  to  be  flimsy  and  borrowed, 
yet  the  demerit  of  their  authors  seems  to 
be  wholly  ascribed  to  him.  His  merciless 
critics,  eager  to  assume  a  consequence  to 
which  they  were  not  entitled,  forgot,  that 
to  the  merit  of  entire  originality  he  never 
laid  claim.     As  a  teacher  of  youth,  he  was. 


more  anxious  to  accommodate  his  matter 
to  their  capacity,  than  to  the  whim  of  con- 
ceited theorists.  Upon  sHght  defedls  his 
mahgnant  critics  fastened  their  envenomed 
tooth.  In  spite  of  every  attempt,  however, 
to  mislead  the  sense  of  the  pubHc,  Dr.  Blair's 
Ledlures  hold  a  respectable  place  in  the 
estimation  of  the  learned.  Though  they 
are  not  his  most  correal  productions,  yet  the 
taste  of  the  author,  and  the  value  of  his  col- 
lection, can  never  cease  to  command  the  ad- 
miration of  the  discerning.  The  world 
must  ever  feel  indebted  to  his  labours,  and 
must  respect  his  ability  as  a  critic,  in  which 
capacity  only  we  have  as  yet  had  occasion  to 
view  him. 


ed 


The  severity  of  criticism  has  shewn  itself 
in  no  instance  more  remarkably,  than  when 
applied  to  those  discourses  that  are  intend- 
ed to  instruct  and  to  reform  mankind. 
While  the  hearer  of  sermons  confesses  him- 
self to  be  both  ignorant  and  wicked,  he 
gives  few  signs  of  that  modesty  which  be- 
comes his  situation.  He  assumes  the  pri- 
vilege of  being  the  critic  of  his  teacher. 
The  doftrines  held  out  for  his  improvement 
are  tried  by  a  standard  of  his  own  creation. 
He  often  hears  the  preacher  with  cold  in- 
difference, and  rashly  judges  of  the  nature 
of  the  prescription,  even  when  he  confesses 
himself  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  disease. 
Did  that,  which  holds  generally,  hold  uni- 
versally with  the  hearers  of  sermons,  the  art 
of  the  preacher  could  never  be  exerted  with 
effect.  The  arrogance  of  a  critic,  and  the 
docility  of  a  learner,  cannot  exist  in  the  same 


70 

person.  Before  instrudion  can  be  commu- 
nicated, its  use  must  be  felt;  and  no  skill 
on  the  part  of  the  teacher  can  combat  that 
unaptness  which  arises  from  conceit. 

To  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit,  at  the  same 
time,  criticism  may  be  fairly  applied.  A 
hearer,  who  is  willing  to  profit  by  the  in- 
strudbons  offered,  is  entitled  to  judge  of  their 
excellence,  by  the  effed  which  they  produce 
on  himself.  He,  who  believed  before,  may 
have  his  faith  confirmed;  and  virtuous  im- 
pressions already  existing  may  receive  addi- 
tional strength. 

The  difficulty  of  excelling  in  pulpit  elo- 
quence may  be  inferred  from  the  small 
number  of  those  who  have  become  conspi- 
cuous in  that  species  of  oratory.  Though 
many  have  reached,  and  even  surpassed  me- 
diocrity, yet  few  have  attained  to  distin- 
guished eminence.  To  the  ambition  of 
churchmen,  in  some  countries,  no  ordinary 
objeds  are  held  forth.  In  these,  however, 
the  vigour  of  the  exertion  has  seldom  cor- 
responded with  the  value  of  the  prize ;  and 


71 

fewer,  perhaps,  of  the  high  exertions  of  ora- 
tory have  been  heard  from  the  pulpit,  than 
in  the  senate  or  at  the  bar.  Each  of  the 
three  fields  has  advantages  and  disadvantages 
peculiar  to  itself;  to  which,  in  order  to  as- 
certain what  constitutes  the  merit  of  a  dis- 
tinguished preacher,  it  may  be  proper  to  at- 
tend. 

The  necessity  of  a  liberal  education  may 
be  held  common  to  all  in  the  different  pro- 
fessions. Without  this,  the  purposes  of 
nature  in  bestowing  genius  would  be  frus- 
trated;  and  her  best  gifts,  unimproved, 
would  be  beheld  with  regret.  In  acqui- 
ring intelledual  improvement,  the  success 
of  the  student  rests  on  his  own  exertion  ^ 
and  in  none  of  the  learned  professions  does 
there  exist  any  limitation  of  the  degree  in 
which  such  improvement  is  needed.  The 
industrious  possessor  of  talents  takes  a  place 
in  the  estimation  of  the  world,  which  no 
good  man  will  deny  him. 

In  regard  to  moral  improvement,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  case  is  different.     Thoui^h 


72 

no  man  of  loose  principles  will  be  heard 
with  pleasure,  and  though  the  character  of 
the  speaker  always  afFefts  the  weight  of  his 
argument,  yet  in  all  the  subjed:s  of  elo- 
quence, strid:  probity  upon  the  part  of  the 
orator  is  not  alike  indispensable.  Men  will 
forgive  in  the  politician  and  in  the  lawyer, 
what  they  condemn  in  the  Divine.  An  ap- 
proach to  relaxed  morality  in  the  first  of 
these,  is  held  venial  from  the  situation  in 
which  the  agent  is  placed.  A  more  liberal 
canon  is  applied  to  the  condudl  of  those 
styled  men  of  the  world,  than  to  others 
around  them. 

To  the  barrister,  too,  certain  indulgences 
are  given,  which  his  profession  is  supposed 
to  require.  It  is  his  avowed  duty  to  conceal 
what  would  hurt  his  client  -,  to  try  at  times 
to  mislead  the  judge,  and  often  to  make 
the  worse  appear  the  better  reason.  Modes 
of  thinking  and  reasoning,  held  in  some 
degree  professional,  escape  the  censure  which 
would  otherwise  pursue  them ;  and  as  long 
as  the  general  character  of  the  senator  and 


73 

the  lawyer  remains  unimpeached,  the  most 
rigorous  standard  is  not  applied  to  the  con- 
dud:  of  either.  The  situation  of  the 
preacher,  in  the  respedt  now  mentioned, 
is  much  more  trying  than  that  of  those 
compared  with  him.  Though  he  tells  his 
audience,  that  the  commandment  which  he 
holds  forth  admits  of  a  liberal  interpreta- 
tion, yet  little  allowance  is  made  for  his 
personal  frailty.  By  exaggerating  the  foi- 
bles of  their  instructor,  men  wish  to  screen 
themselves  from  his  reproof;  and  by  a  fool- 
ish demand  of  perfection,  where  it  can  ne- 
ver exist,  they  depreciate  merit,  which  is 
entitled  to  their  respedl. 

There  may  be  errors,  however,  upon  the 
part  of  the  preacher,  not  to  be  palliated  by 
the  weakness  of  his  audience.  High  as  is 
the  authority  upon  which  his  precepts  rest, 
they  must  be  delivered  with  the  mildness 
of  a  Christian.  Even  in  the  warnings  which 
he  is  obliged  to  give,  affedion  must  be  ma- 
nifest; and  though  he  ''knows  the  terrors 
of  the  Lord,"   he  must  *'  in  meekness  in- 

lO 


74 

strudl  those  that  oppose  themselves."  The 
least  symptom  of  arrogance  would  diminish 
his  usefulness.  It  would  create  a  jealousy 
of  those  arts,  upon  which  priestcraft  erecSs 
its  dominion. 

The  art  of  the  preacher  is  brought  to  a 
severe  proof,  not  only  by  the  prejudices,  but 
also  by  the  mixed  nature  of  his  audience. 
In  the  promiscuous  croud  which  he  is  cal- 
led to  address,  very  different  portions  of 
ability  belong  to  those  composing  it.  To 
this  original  diiference  in  mind,  is  to  be  added, 
an  endless  variety  of  charader,  arising  from 
modes  of  education,  and  from  casual  pre- 
possessions. One  man  is  unable  to  appre- 
hend, what  another  is  unwilling  to  believe. 
The  same  sentiment  which  delights  peo- 
ple of  one  description,  disgusts  those  of  an 
opposite.  Though  no  innocent  prejudice 
should  be  shocked  by  the  preacher,  yet  he 
must  boldly  censure  what  he  cannot  pal- 
liate. By  excessive  lenity  he  might  betray 
the  cause  of  virtue,  which  he  is  bound  to 
support;  and  by  excessive  rigour,  he  might 


75 

countera6l  the  spirit  of  the  religion  which  he 
professes  to  inculcate. 

When  the  senator  and  the  lawyer  exert 
their  eloquence,  they  are  hardly,  if  at  all, 
exposed  to  such  trials  of  delicacy  and  skill. 
The  former  addresses  men  upon  a  level  with 
himself,  in  as  far  as  equality  depends  on 
things  external.  In  both  houses  of  parlia- 
ment, whatever  diversity  may  exist  in  the 
political  opinions  of  the  members,  there  is 
none  in  the  rank  entitling  each  to  hold  his 
place.  Jealousy,  as  to  their  respective  pri- 
vileges, is  a  sentiment  common  to  all ;  and 
in  their  pursuits  and  their  acquirements, 
there  is  often  but  a  slight  disparity.  The 
task  imposed  on  the  lawyer,  in  this  respect, 
seems  easier  than  even  that  of  the  senator. 
His  eloquence  is  exerted  to  convince  one 
or  a  few  judges,  or  a  jury  that  is  not  very 
numerous.  In  any  of  the  cases  stated,  the 
hearers  are  supposed  capable  of  following 
the  speaker's  reasoning;  and  prejudice  can 
hardly  operate  upon  men  guided,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  by  positive  statute,  and  by  a  sense 
of  equity. 


76 

In  point  of  siibje6t,  the  preacher  seems 
to  possess  advantages  that  cannot  be  dis- 
sembled. It  is  one  in  whi;  h  all  men  are 
concerned,  and  in  which  their  highest  inte- 
rests are  involved.  While  the  powers  of 
the  barrister  support  the  rights  of  an  indi- 
vidual, and  those  of  the  senator  the  prospe- 
rity of  a  nation,  the  aim  of  the  preacher  is 
higher  than  either.  He  has  it  in  charge 
to  teach  both,  that  in  public  and  private 
transad:ions  the  rights  of  men  are  to  be  re- 
spedied;  and  he  tries  to  remove  the  grounds 
of  animosity  among  individuals,  and  among 
nations.  He  calls  the  attention  of  the  world, 
not  only  to  the  best  means  of  maintaining 
interests  that  are  present  and  temporal,  but 
to  the  only  means  of  acquiring  others  that 
are  future  and  eternal.  What  subjed:,  in 
point  of  sublimity,  can  be  compared  with 
that,  which  treats  of  the  being  and  the  per- 
fections of  God?  How  do  the  sandions  of 
human  laws  dwindle  into  nothing,  when  op- 
posed to  those  of  the  divine  ! 

The  lawyer  is  often  called  to  discuss 
points  that  afford  no  room  for   displaying 


77 

his  eloquence.  When  he  illustrates  dark 
subjeds,  or  reconciles  jarring  decisions,  any 
thing  like  rhetorical  power  would  expose 
him  to  ridicule.  Few  can  follow  a  train  of 
metaphysical  reasoning,  even  when  proper- 
ly applied,  or  see  the  beauty  of  an  inge- 
nious evidion  of  the  truth.  Every  hearer, 
at  the  same  time,  measures  the  speaker's 
capacity  by  his  own,  and  foolishly  per- 
suades himself,  that  no  meaning  exists,  when 
he  is  too  dull  to  apprehend  it.  Were  the 
subjeds  treated  by  the  lawyer  those  only 
that  have  now  been  mentioned,  the  elo- 
quence of  the  bar  could  never  have  existed. 
There  are  times,  however,  when  his  field 
changes,  and  when  he  must  leave  the  pur- 
suit of  hypercritical  distindions.  In  vin- 
dicating a  civil  right,  and  in  repelling  a 
criminal  charge,  he  must  work  on  the  feel- 
ing, as  well  as  on  the  understanding,  of  his 
audience.  He  then  appeals  to  the  law 
that  is  written  by  the  hand  of  Nature,  from 
which  the  guilty  instindively  dread  punish- 
ment,   and    the   innocent    seek    protedion. 


78 

He  supposes  the  judge  to  be  aware  of  its 
sanctions,  and  reasons  upon  those  great 
principles  of  equity,  which  existed  before 
any  human  enadlment,  and  were  co-eval 
with  man. 

The  dehberations  in  the  senate  afford  a 
field  for  eloquence,  in  some  respeds  supe- 
rior, and  in  all  equal,  to  that  presented  by 
the  pleadings  at  the  bar.  No  subtle  dis- 
criminations, in  the  former,  engross  the 
hearer's  power  of  reasoning,  and  cramp  his 
fancy.  As  the  points  discussed  always  af- 
fed:  the  interests  of  a  nation,  they  can  ne- 
ver cease  to  be  important.  Few  hear  de- 
bates with  indifference,  in  the  issue  of  which 
they  are  themselves  concerned;  and  public 
expedation  is  roused  by  their  subjects  be- 
ing previously  known.  T^he  lawyer  and  the 
preacher,  again,  seldom  enjoy  this  advan- 
tage. No  notice  is  given  by  the  former  of 
the  point  that  is  to  be  pleaded;  and  when 
the  latter  ascends  his  pulpit,  his  audience 
know  nothing  as  to  the  subjed  of  his  dis- 
course. 


79 

Though  the  preacher  chuses  his  subjeft 
from  a  variety  of  topics,  yet  the  range  of 
his  choice  is  known  to  his  hearers.     Every 
point  of  dodrine  that  he  can  adopt  at  the 
time,  must  have  repeatedly  engaged  the  at- 
tention of  those  whom  he  is  called  to  ad- 
dress.     To    subjefts,  thus    trite  and  fami- 
liar, no  powders  can  give  the  charm  of  no- 
velty.     When  his    text  is  announced,    his 
hearers  anticipate   what   he   is    to   say.     If 
his  observations  tally  with  what  they  have 
heard,    they   are  regarded  as  common,  and 
he  may  be  unjustly  accused  of  not  think- 
ing for  himself.     In  the  subje6ls,  again,  of 
the  barrister's   pleadings,  and   of  the  sena- 
tor's   debates,    there   appears  a  variety   that 
is  endless.    Though  the  same  principle  may 
apply  to  a  number  of  each,  yet  every  hearer 
does  not  see  this,  and  every  case  is  clothed 
with  circumstances  peculiar  to  itself.     The 
fate  of  persons,  besides,  forms  an  objed:  that 
is  tangible  and   interesting  ;    while  the  es- 
sence of  those  virtues    and   graces,    which 
the  preacher  delineates,  is  often  too  subtle 
for  either   rousing  the  attention,    or   influ- 


80 

encing  the  condud,  of  those  to  whom  he 
speaks. 

The  preacher  also  has  to  lament  the  dis- 
advantage of  having  no  adversary  to  con- 
tend With.  Whatever  his  doctrines  are, 
they  are  received,  at  least  in  appearance, 
with  implicit  assent.  No  jealous  antago- 
nist watches  every  sentiment  as  it  is  uttered, 
with  a  view  either  to  refute  his  reasoning, 
or  to  force  him  to  a  reply,  which  may  give 
room  for  a  new  attack.  Secure  from  the 
malignity  of  criticism,  he  is  apt  to  shrink 
from  the  laborious  effort,  by  which  other 
speakers  can,  in  the  eye  of  the  judicious, 
set  it  at  defiance.  The  ardour  of  debate 
does  not  enHven  his  genius,  as  in  the  se- 
nate, and  at  the  bar,  where  man  sharpens 
man.  Where  there  is  no  conflid:,  there  can 
be  little  exertion.  Even  the  ambitious  sub- 
mit not  to  labour,  but  when  labour  is  re- 
quired ;  and  high  efforts  of  eloquence  are 
then  only  to  be  expedled,  when  the  speaker 
is  as  m.uch  afraid  to  commit  a  fauh,  as  the 
hearer  is  eager  to  deted  it.     The  preacher. 


81 

then,  who  acquires  the  highest  eminence 
in  his  profession,  must  have  had  the 
best  gifts  of  nature  committed  to  him,  and 
must  have  zealously  improved  the  trust. 
If,  in  some  respeds,  he  has  the  advantage 
of  the  senator  and  the  barrister,  yet  in 
many,  they  have  manifestly  the  advantage 
of  him.  To  excel  in  any  of  the  depart- 
ments, requires  a  force  of  genius  that  is 
seldom  to  be  seen.  The  preacher,  how- 
ever, who  is  unrivalled  in  his  profession, 
must  have  left  others  who  moved  in  it  far 
behind  him.  It  may  be  more  easy,  as  a  great 
French  critic  observes,  to  preach  than  to 
plead;  but  it  is  well  added,  that  it  is  more 
difficult  to  preach  well,  than  to  plead  well. 
The  following  remarks  of  M.  Bruyere,  upon 
the  difficulty  of  the  preacher's  art,  cannot 
be  too  much  admired : — **  U eloquence  de  la 
chair e^  en  ce  qui  y  entre  d'humain  et  du  talent 
de  Vorateur^  est  cachee,  connue  de  pen  de  per^ 
Sonne Sy  et  d'une  difficile  execution, — II  faut 
marcher  par  des  chemins  bat t us,  dire  ce  qui 
a  ete  dity  et  ce  que  I* on  prevoit  que  vous  allez 
II 


82 

dire:  les  matter es  sont  grandes,  mats  usees  et 
triviales 'y  les  principes  surs  dont  les  audi^ 
teiirs  pe}2etrent  les  conclusions  d'u7ie  seule 
i}ue  'y  il  y  entre  des  sujets  qui  sont  sublimes : 
mais  qui  peut  trailer  le  sublime  ? — Le  predi- 
cateur  n  est  point  soutenuy  comme  tavocaty  par 
des  faits  toujours  nouveauXy  par  de  differens 
evenemtnsy  par  des  avantures  inouies-y  il  ne 
sexerce  point  sur  les  questions  douteusesy  il 
ne  fait  point  valoir  les  violentes  conjeBures, 
et  les  presomptions  y  toutes  choseSy  neanmoins 
qui  elevent  le  genie y  lui  donnent  de  la  force y 
et  de  Fetenduey  et  qui  contraignent  hien  moins 
r eloquence  quelles  ne  lafixent  et  ne  la  dirigent. 
II  doit  au  contrairCy  tirer  son  discours  d'line 
source  commune  et  ou  tout  le  monde  puise ;  et 
sil  secarte  de  ces  lieux  communes  y  il  nest  plus 
populaire  -,  il  est  ab strait  ou  declamateur ;  // 
ne  preche  plus  Pevangile  ;  //  n  a  hesoin  que 
d'une  noble  simplicitey  mais  ilfaut  fatteindre ; 
talent  rarey  et  qui  passe  les  forces  du  commun 
des  hommes  ;  ce  quils  ont  de  genie y  d'imagi- 
nation,  d' erudition,  et  de  mefnoire,  ne  leur  sert 
souvent  qu    a  s'en  eloigner^ — On  croit  voir 


83 

quil  est  plus  aise  de  precher  que  de  plaider^ 
et  plus  dijficile  de  bien  precher  que  de  bien 
plaider '' — Les  Caraderes,  ou  les  meurs  dc 
ce  siecle.     Tom.  2d.  p.  251. 

After  viewing  the  Senate,  the  Bar,  and  the 
Pulpit,  as  fields  for  the  display  of  eloquence, 
and  marking  the  difficulties  peculiar  to  each, 
it  may  be.  proper  to  establish  a  standard  for 
judging  of  the  preacher's  merit,  when  cal- 
led to  pradlise  his  art.  There  are  certain 
great  rules  in  composition,  by  which  dis- 
courses of  every  kind  are  regulated,  and 
which  those  distinguished  for  rhetorical  ta- 
lents never  negleft.  There  are  others  which, 
when  duly  observed,  constitute  more  im- 
mediately the  beauty  of  sermons,  and  which 
lead  to  eminence  in  that  very  delicate  spe- 
cies of  writing.  A  successful  preacher  must 
feel  precisely  the  nature  of  the  duty  re- 
quired of  him.  This  duty,  if  properly  ap- 
prehended, will  be  understood  to  be  both 
arduous  and  interesting.  It  supposes  the 
person  undertaking  it  to  combat  propensi- 
sities  not  easily  resisted,  and  to  mortify  the 


84 

pride  of  man,  by  holding  out  to  him  a  just 
though  an  humbUng  pidture.  He  who  flat- 
ters the  prejudices,  or  extenuates  the  vices 
of  his  audience,  is  a  traitor  to  the  cause 
which  he  espouses.  Though  the  avowed 
friend  of  virtue,  he  is  its  secret  enemy;  and 
he  seeks  the  favour  of  others,  at  the  expense 
of  every  thing  vahiable  to  himself. 

But  it  is  the  business  of  the  preacher,  not 
bnly  to  deter  others  from  the  commission 
of  what  is  evil,  but  also  to  persuade  them  to 
the  practice  of  what  is  good.  With  a  view 
to  impress  his  dodtrines  upon  their  hearts, 
he  must  appeal  to  their  understandings. 
Genuine  eloquence  shews  itself  by  opera- 
ting upon  each,  and  renders  both  subser- 
vient to  one  common  end.  It  gives  perma- 
nence to  the  emotion,  that  would  be  other- 
wise transient,  and  energy  to  the  conviction, 
that  must  stimulate  an  agent  by  influencing 
his  will. 

In  ofder  to  produce  an  efFedl  so  difficult 
and  momentous,  every  part  of  a  sermon 
must  be  composed  with  care.     Though  a 


85 

man  of  genius  shews  himself  even  in  a  pro- 
dudiion  that  is  hasty,  yet  he  wounds  the 
discerning  critic,  who  catches  the  least  de- 
fed:,  and  perceives  its  cause.  His  audience 
is  often  blamed,  when  the  fault  is  not  theirs. 
Had  the  rules  of  his  art  been  observed,  he 
might  have  summoned  the  attention,  which 
they  would  have  been  willing  to  yield.  He 
might  have  done  so,  indeed,  by  means  of 
which  they  were  unconscious,  and  exhibited 
a  species  of  skill  the  more  meritorious,  that 
it  was  unperceived. 

The  ability  of  the  preacher  is  perhaps 
never  put  to  a  severer  test,  than  when  he 
begins  to  address  his  audience.  Every  ear 
he  finds  then  open,  and  every  mind  unoc- 
cupied. He  has  to  court  the  attention  of 
his  hearers,  without  seeming  to  obtrude 
himself  upon  it.  He  must  appear  the 
friend  of  those  whom  he  addresses,  and 
less  anxious  to  exhibit  skill  in  his  art,  than 
to  promote  their  interest.  His  subjed:  must 
be  held  forth  as  important,  and  such,  at 
the  same  time,  as  may  be  easily  and  shortly 


86 

discussed.  The  docility  of  his  hearers  must 
be  secured  by  the  removal  of  every  prepos- 
session against  the  point  vs^hich  he  means 
to  estabhsh.  His  manner  ought  to  be  calm 
and  dispassionate.  Far  from  striking  a  note 
at  the  outset  which  he  cannot  afterwards 
reach,  he  must  conceal  and  keep  in  reserve 
those  powers,  by  which  he  is  to  animate  his 
audience.  In  the  introdudions  of  Demos- 
thenes, the  orator  almost  forgets  himself, 
and  presses  forward  to  the  business  with  an 
ardour,  which  he  seems  often  unable  to 
check. 

In  the  division  of  his  discourse,  the 
preacher  gives  a  specimen  of  his  talents  as 
a  logician.  The  distribution  must  be  so 
condudted,  that  nothing  essential  is  omit- 
ted, and  nothing  superfluous  introduced. 
Each  part,  of  course,  stands  clear  of  the 
rest,  however  nearly  allied  to  them.  The 
subject  must  be  exhausted  by  the  parts, 
into  which  it  is  divided;  and  all  the  points 
of  consequence  should  appear  to  have  been 
at  once  in  the  speaker's  eye.     The  simplest 


87 

of  these  should  take  place  of  those  that  are 
complex ;  so  that,  by  the  regularity  of  their 
arrangement,  the  whole  become  luminous. 
A  division  thus  conducted  pleases  the  dis- 
cerning, and  arrests  their  notice.  It  is  the 
surest  means  also  of  informing  the  ignorant, 
who  suffer  from  the  confusion  of  superficial 
instructors.  It  rests  on  those  first  principles 
of  reasoning  which  all  inherit  from  nature, 
though  they  are  improved  by  few. 

When  the  preacher  is  called  to  relate, 
which  is  seldom  the  case,  his  narration 
should  be  distinft  and  concise.  Men  would 
withhold  their  attention  from  what  his  dull- 
ness embarrasses,  and  would  grudge  also  to 
have  it  needlessly  prolonged.  The  same 
rules,  which  are  his  guides  when  he  relates, 
should  be  so  likewise  when  he  explains. 
His  style  should  be  simple  and  corredt,  and 
void  of  any  ornament  that  might  divert  the 
hearer's  attention.  The  dodtrine  of  his  text 
should  be  distinctly  stated,  and  the  slightest 
boundary  marked  by  which  it  is  separated 


from  that  of  other  texts,  though  nearly  al- 
lied to  it. 

Each  of  the  parts  of  a  sermon  thus  treat- 
ed holds  a  distind:  place,  and  presents  itself 
in  a  train  that  cannot  be  altered.  Rheto- 
ricians talk  also  of  the  argumentative  and 
the  pathetic  parts.  These,  however,  ap- 
pear rather  to  be  qualities  diffusing  them- 
selves over  the  whole,  than  the  separate 
constituents  of  a  discourse.  From  no  one 
part  of  it  can  argument  be  banished;  and 
an  orator  may  see  reason  to  rouse  the  feel- 
ings of  his  audience  at  very  different  times. 
In  forming  and  in  arranging  his  arguments, 
the  preacher  gives  as  clear  proofs  of  the 
correcflness  of  his  conceptions,  as  in  di- 
viding his  discourse.  Those  drawn  from 
topics  essentially  distind:,  should  not  be 
blended;  and  those  that  are  similar,  should 
not  be  set  asunder.  By  preserving  uni- 
formity in  this  respedl:,  confusion  is  avoid- 
ed. Whatever  embarrasses  the  hearer,  di- 
minishes the  speaker's  power;  and  the  gene- 
ral impression  is  enfeebled,  when  the  means. 


intended  to  excite  it,    are  not  duly  distin- 
guished. 

Iq  the  arrangement  of  arguments,  too, 
much  art  may  be  displayed.  There  are 
times  when  the  most  powerful  should  take 
the  lead,  and  the  least  so  should  follow. 
There  are  others,  when  this  order  should  be 
i'pversed,  and  when  the  speaker  should  seem 
to  abandon  every  preliminary  argument, 
and  rest  upon  the  last.  Above  all  things, 
he  should  beware  of  multiplying  them  need- 
lessly. By  thus  seeming  to  distrust  his 
cause,  he  makes  others  do  so;  and  vain 
would  be  the  attempt  to  balance,  by  the 
number  of  his  arguments,  any  deficiency 
in  their  strength. 

In  the  due  management  of  the  pathetic 
part  of  a  discourse,  more  talent  is  requisite 
than  in  that  of  the  argumentative.  To  ex- 
cel in  the  former,  delicate  sensibility  must 
be  united  w^ith  a  sound  understanding.  This 
sensibility  must  be  under  the  control  of 
reason,  and  must  display  itself  only  in  its 
proper  place.      An   injudicious  attempt    to 

12 


90 

rouse  the  feelings  of  an  audience,  disgusts 
the  discerning,  and  produces  on  the  simple 
no  permanent  eifed:.  If  the  audience  an- 
ticipate the  speaker's  intention  to  move 
them,  they  are  instantly  set  upon  their 
guard.  Afraid  of  becoming  the  dupes,  they 
become  the  critics,  of  his  eloquence.  They 
will  yield  to  an  indiredl,  when  they  would 
resist  any  studied  attempt ;  and  they  will 
behold  with  coldness  that  false  animation 
in  the  speaker,  in  which  they  cannot  par- 
ticipate. 

As  much  art  is  requisite  to  raise  such 
high  emotions,  so  no  less  is  requisite  to 
preserve  them  in  their  native  vigour.  The 
style  of  a  pathetic  orator  will  exhibit  an 
artless  symplicity.  He  will  feel  too  strongly 
the  animated  conception  which  he  excites 
in  others,  to  chace  those  resemblances  which 
present  themselves  to  his  fancy  when  cool. 
He  will  sacrifice  every  thing  to  the  objedt 
then  before  him,  which  is  to  touch  the 
heart.  A  false  ornament  he  will  feel  to  be 
a  studied  deformity,  and  he  will  keep  the 


91 

emotion,  which  he  has  had  the  art  to  excite, 
in  the  channel  in  which  he  wishes  it  to  run. 
He,  who  attempts  to  be  pathetic  long,  can 
never  be  so  at  all.  A  real  orator  allows  the 
feeUngs  of  his  audience  to  unbend,  before 
they  are  strained.  He  leaves  the  tone  of 
passion  gradually,  and  cautiously  avoids  the 
dangers  of  too  hasty  a  descent. 

When  the  preacher  comes  to  his  perora- 
tion, he  must  be  careful  to  maintain  the 
ground  that  he  has  acquired.  He  must 
neither  end  abruptly,  nor  try  the  patience 
of  his  hearers,  by  dwelling  upon  matter  that 
is  trivial,  or  foreign.  Every  convidlion  pro- 
duced upon  their  understandings,  he  must 
fortify,  by  rousing  the  feelings  of  their 
hearts.  He  must  retire  from  his  pulpit 
with  a  good  grace,  leaving  on  the  minds  of 
his  audience  an  impression,  that  in  his  rea- 
soning there  was  no  sophistry,  and  that  the 
sole  objed:  of  his  exertion  was  to  persuade 
them  to  what  is  good. 

From  the  general  difficulties,  then,  that 
attend  the  eloquence  which  belongs  to  the 


9S 

Pulpit,  arid  the  art  that  is  necessary  for 
Gomposing  a  single  discourse,  it  mast  be 
no  easy  matter  to  earn  the  reputation  of  a 
distinguished  preachef-.  He,  who  Stands 
high  in  this  department  of  letters,  must 
have  suffered  and  d6ne  much.  If  we  exa- 
mine a  few  of  Dr.  Blair's  Sermons  by  the 
rules  which  we  have  attempted  to  establish, 
we  shall  be  the  more  disposed,  perhaps,  to 
admire  what  they  present  as  excellent,  and 
to  forgive  v/hat  may  seem  to  deserve  cen- 
sure. 

In  the  ninth  Sermon  of  the  third  volume, 
he  discourses  upon  idleness,  and  views  this 
habit  in  a  light,  in  which  it  is  not  com- 
monly considered,  as  a  violation  of  religious 
duty.  His  text  is  in  Mathew,  xx.  6.  and 
the  words  are,  *'  Why  stand  you  here  all  the 
day  idle?" 

The  view  taken  by  Dr.  Blair  of  his  subject 
in  this  sermon  is  simple  and  natural.  He 
proposes  to  prove,  and  does  so  incontrovert- 
ibly,  that  the  idle  man  fails  in  duty  to  God, 
to  the  world,  and  to  himself.     Nothing  ex~ 


traneous  appears  in  the  discourse;  and  though 
the  train  of  ideas  is  condu6ted  with  philoso- 
phic precision,  this  seems  to  be  done  with- 
out effort. 

Father  Bourdaloue,  in  the  sixth  Sermon 
of  his  seventh  volume,  discourses  upon  idle- 
ness also  from  the  same  text : — "  Pourqiioi 
demciirez  vous  ici  tout  le  jour  sans  rien  faire  V' 
The  French  preacher  views  his  subject  in 
a  light  different  from  Dr.  Blair's,  and  much 
less  consistent  with  logical  rule.  He  con- 
siders mankind  as  doomed  to  labour,  in 
consequence  of  the  curse  pronounced  up- 
on Adam;  so  that  one  text  in  Scripture  is 
made  to  recommend  that  as  a  matter  of  du- 
ty, which  another  holds  out  as  a  matter  of 
necessity.  The  wealth  of  his  hearers,  he 
tells  them,  does  not  relieve  them  from  the 
obligation  to  labour  : — **  Parceque  tons  les 
biens  du  monde  ne  peuvent  vous  soustraire 
a  la  male diti ion  du  peche ; — parceque  Dieu  en 
vous  donnant  ces  biens  na  jamais  eu  intention 
de  deroger  a  ses  droits-, — car  l obligation  du 
travail  et  la  nccessitc  de  la  fnort  tiennerit  le 
meme  rang  dans  les  divins  decrets.*' 


94. 

It  does  not  appear,  that  the  labour  en- 
tailed upon  the  human  race  is  at  all  con- 
nefted  with  that  acftive  exertion  which,  by 
implication,  is  recommended  in  the  text. 
The  former  suggests  punishment  from  ^the 
severity  of  the  toil  denounced  against  him, 
who,  for  his  transgression,  was  in  the  sweat 
of  his  brow  to  eat  his  bread.  Between  zeal 
in  business,  and  the  mean  indulgence  of 
the  sluggard,  there  is  a  wide  interval;  and 
as  the  one  suggests  the  fulfilment,  so  does 
the  other  suggest  the  violation  of  duty. 

When  the  learned  Father  comes  to  what 
he  calls  his  second  point,  he  treats  the  sub- 
jedl  with  high  ability.  He  had  proved, 
that  man  might  fail  in  the  duty  said  to  be 
imposed  upon  him  as  a  sinner,  and  he  goe* 
on  to  prove,  that  he  might  fail  in  that  which 
is  attached  to  his  oarticular  situation  in  the 
world.  ,  In  this  last  view  of  the  subjed:, 
the  two  preachers  coincide.  The  leading 
ideas  seem  to  have  occurred  to  both,  and 
they  are  expressed  with  equal  elegance  and 
ease.      By  motion  and  exertion,    says  Dr, 


05 

Blair,  the  system  of  being  is  preserved  in 
vigour.  By  its  different  parts  always  act- 
ing in  subordination  one  to  another,  the 
perfe(flion  of  the  whole  is  carried  on.  The 
heavenly  bodies  perpetually  revolve.  Day 
and  night  incessantly  repeat  their  appoint- 
ed course. — — "  Ainsiy'  says  the  Father, 
**  voyons  nous  les  cieux  et  les  as  t res,  qui  sont 
sur  710S  tetes  dajis  un  mowuement  perpetuel 
sans  s' arret er  une  fois,  et  sans  cesser  de  repan- 
dre  leurs  injiuences,'' 

In  the  following  passage,  both  preachers 
seem  to  have  laid  hold  of  the  same  idea, 
and  to  present  it  in  expressions  of  nearly 
the  same  import.  It  holds  so  natural  a 
place  in  each  of  the  sermons,  that  it  may 
have  suggested  itself  to  both;  so  that  the 
charge  of  plagiarism  cannot  certainly  be 
brought  home  upon  the  latest  of  the  two 
writers.  The  order  and  happiness  of  the 
world,*'  says  Dr.  Blair  "  cannot  be  main- 
tained without  a  perpetual  circulation  of 
adive  duties  and  offices,  which  all  are  cal- 
led upon  to  perform  in  their  turn.     Supe- 


06 

dors  are  no  more  independent  of  their  in- 
feriors, than  these  inferiors  are  cf  them.  It 
is  sometimes  supposed,  that  industry  and 
dihgence  are  duties  required  of  the  poor 
alone,  and  that  riches  confer  the  privilege 
of  being  idle.  This  is  so  far  from  being 
justified  by  reason,  how  often  soever  it  may 
obtain  in  fadt,  that  the  higher  one  is  raised 
in  the  world,  his  obligation  to  become 
useful  is  proportionally  increased.  The 
claims  upon  him  from  various  quarters 
multiply.  The  sphere  of  his  adive  duties 
widens  on  every  hand." — **  Je  pretends^' 
says  the  French  preacher,  ^^  qu  a  7nesure 
qime  condition  est  plus  elevee,  elle  est  plus  su- 
jette  a  ces  devoirs  qiion  ne  pent  accomplir  sans 
une  action  assidue  et  const  ante ;  et  cest  ici  qiiil 
faut  encore  une  fois  que  vous  vous  cletrompiex 
des  fausses  idees  que  vous  avez  des  choses  et 
d'une  erreur  pernicieuse  ou  le  monde  vous  a 
peiitetre  jusques  a  present  entretenus.  Car  la 
grande  erreur  du  7nonde  est  de  croire  que 
r elevation^  le  rang,  la  dignite  sont  autant  des 
droits  acquis  pour  le  reposy  et  pour  la  douceur 


97 

de  la  vie,  Mais  la  foi  nous  dit  tout  le  con^ 
trairCy  et  la  raison  est,  que  plus  une  condition 
est  elevee,  plus  elk  a  de  grandes  obligations  a 
remplir. 

Bourdaloue,  with  the  happiest  effe^l:,  in- 
troduces the  consequences  of  occasional  idle- 
ness upon  three  distinguished  characters  in 
the  Old  Testament,  and  bids  his  hearers  be- 
ware of  the  rock  upon  which  they  split: — 
**  Nous  ne  sommes  ni  plus  saints  que  David, 
ni  plus  eclaires  que  Salomon,  ni  plus  Jorts 
que  Samson,  et  pour  vivre  dans  la  retraite, 
nous  navons  pas  moins  a  craindre  les  desordres 
de  PoisiviteJ' 

The  general  execution  of  both  sermons 
discovers  great  merit  upon  the  part  of  those 
who  composed  them.  In  consequence  of 
the  learned  Father  considering  labour,  in 
the  first  part  of  his  discourse,  as  the  pu- 
nishment of  sin,  he  deprived  himself  of  the 
power  of  enforcing  the  precept  in  his  text, 
as  agreeable  to  the  adive  dispositions  of 
man.  It  was  impossible  for  the  preacher 
to  regard  the  same  exertion  both  as  a  pe- 

13 


98 

nance  and  a  pleasure.  Dr.  Blair,  again,  by 
a  more  just  and  a  fortunate  view  of  his 
subjed:,  has  employed  the  argument  from 
which  Bourdaloue  precludes  himself,  with 
the  happiest  eiFed:.  He  proves,  to  a  de- 
monstration, that  the  sluggard  is  his  own 
enemy,  and  that  he  generates  and  feeds  the 
disease  under  which  he  pines.  *'  Rest," 
says  he,  "  is  agreeable^  but  it  is  only  from 
preceding  labours,  that  rest  acquires  its  true 
relish.  When  the  mind  is  suffered  to  re- 
main in  continued  inaction,  all  its  powers 
decay.  It  soon  languishes  and  sickens ; 
and  the  pleasures,  which  it  proposed  to  ob- 
tain from  rest,  end  in  tediousness  and  insi- 
pidity." 

One  of  the  most  eloquent  Sermons  that 
Dr.  Blair  ever  composed,  is  the  fifth  in  the 
first  volume.  The  subjeft  of  it  is  the  death 
of  Christ,  and  the  text  is  taken  from  John, 
xvii.  I.  "Jesus  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
and  said.  Father,  the  hour  is  come."  The 
objed  of  the  preacher  is  to  state  those  great 
events  which  were  about  to  take  place  du- 


99 

ring  an  hour,  the  most  critical  which  the 
world  had  seen,  since  hours  began  to  be 
numbered.  In  the  subjedl  there  is  a  native 
dignity,  of  which  he  was  aware,  and  deter- 
mined to  avail  himself.  For  doing  so,  no 
pompous  or  intricate  method  is  adopted  by 
him.  He  states  six  points  of  view  in  which 
this  hour  was  interesting  to  the  human  race; 
and  each  of  these  is  kept  distinft,  and  is 
beautifully  illustrated. 

Father  Massillon,  in  the  ninth  Sermon  of 
his  sixth  volume,  discourses  upon  the  same 
subjed:  from  a  different  text.  His  is  taken 
from  John,  xix.  30,  and  the  words  are 
*^  Tout  est  accompli,''  This  consummation 
is  viewed  in  three  lights;  as  that  of  justice 
upon  the  part  of  the  Father;  and  of  malice 
upon  that  of  men ;  and  of  love  upon  that  of 
Christ.  Though  the  method  pursued  by 
the  two  preachers  is  different,  yet  each  is 
excellent.  In  that  of  both  there  is  a  preci- 
sion which  exhausts  the  subjed:,  and  which, 
at  the  same  time,  permits  nothing  extraneous 
to  mingle  with  it.     In  the  pathetic  parts  of 


loa 

the  discourses,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  which 
of  the  preachers  shines  most.  Those  flashes 
of  imagination,  which  serve  to  illuminate 
the  subjedl,  are  in  both  frequent  and  vivid. 
No  attempt  is  ever  made  to  embellish, 
that  doe>  not  succeed  -,  and  though  the  cir- 
cumstances upon  which  the  ornament  rests 
are  sometimes  different,  they  are  judiciously 
chosen. 

The  magnanimity  of  the  dying  Saviour 
is  a  pomt  upon  which  the  powers  of  the 
preachers  are  successfully  turned.  Every 
attempt  of  his  enemies  to  degrade,  served 
only  to  ennoble  his  charader  ^  and  the  great- 
ness of  the  sufferer  was  made  manifest  in 
the  greatness  of  his  sufferings.  **  The  court 
of  Herod,"  says  Dr.  Blair,  **  the  judgment- 
hall  of  Pilate,  the  hill  of  Calvary,  were  so 
many  theatres  prepared  for  his  displaying 
all  the  virtues  of  a  constant  and  a  patient 
mind.  When  led  forth  to  suffer,  the  first 
voice  which  we  hear  from  him  is  a  gene- 
rous lamentation  over  the  fate  of  his  unfor- 
tunate, though  guilty,  country;  and  to  the 
last  moment  of  his  life,  we  behold  him  in 


101 

possession  of  the  same  gentle  and  benevolent 
spirit.  He  betrayed  no  symptom  of  a  weak 
or  a  vulgar,  of  a  discomposed  or  an  impa- 
tient mind.  With  all  the  dignity  of  a  so- 
vereign, he  conferred  pardon  on  a  penitent 
fellow  sufferer.  With  a  greatness  of  mind 
beyond  example,  he  spent  his  last  moments 
in  apologies  and  prayers  for  those  who  v/ere 
shedding  his  blood.'' 

**  En  eff'ety'  says  Father  Massillon,  **  on 
salt  assez  que  I'attente  d'lin  tourmenty  quon 
ijoit  present  et  inevitabky  est  toiijours  plus 
eruelle  que  le  tourment  mane ;  et  quon  fneurt 
d'une  maniere  milk  fols  plus  douloureuse  par 
la  crainte^  que  par  la  douleur.  Or,  la  justice 
du  Pere  presente  distindlement  a  I'ame  du  Sau^ 
veiir  tout  r  appareil  de  la  croix ;  la  nuit  du 
Pretoire 'y  les  crachatSy  les  souffletSy  les  fouetSy 
les  derisions y  le  bois  fatal -y  ces  images  affreuses 
la  crucijient  par  avance. — Sur  le  Calvairey 
toute  la  nature  en  de^ordre  sinteressera  pour 
lui  y  ses  ennemis  memes  le  reconnoitront  pour 
Fils  de  Dieu :  iciy  il  souffre  dans  les  tenebres 
et  dans  le  silence ,  et  ses  plus  cbers  disciples  /' 
abandonnentJ' 


102 

Passages  that  are  equally  pathetic  are  so 
extremely  numerous  in  the  two  sermons, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  transcribe  them. 
The  sermons  resemble  each  other  in  the 
glow  and  general  spirit  with  which  they  are 
written,  but  not  in  their  particular  parts. 
While  the  powers  of  the  two  preachers  may 
be  judged  of  by  the  ability  with  which 
each  has  acquitted  himself  upon  the  same 
subject,  it  does  not  appear  that  Dr.  Blair 
has  borrowed  an  idea  from  his  predecessor. 
The  animation  with  which  he  has  compo- 
sed this  sermon  comes  nearer  that  of  French 
sermons  in  general ;  but  when  he  chuses  to 
rise  above  his  ordinary  level,  he  needs  no 
foreign  aid  to  support  him.  Full  of  his 
subjedt,  he  seems  to  have  had  abundance 
of  matter  suggested  by  his  own  invention. 
Every  striking  circumstance  is  colleded  to 
heighten  the  splendour  of  the  description, 
and  to  support  the  intrinsic  dignity  of  his 
theme.  The  unafFeded  ardour  of  the  speak- 
er does  not  prevent  him  from  seeing  and 
pursuing  the  clearest  method.     In  the  me- 


103 

thod  itself  there  are  no  signs  of  labour; 
and  its  adoption  seems  natural  to  those  who 
would  themselves  have  been  incapable  of 
forming  it.  As  the  best  possible  arrange- 
ment is  laid  hold  of  without  effort,  much 
art  is  successfully  expended  in  concealing 
the  art  that  is  afliually  employed. 

In  the  third  Sermon  of  the  third  volume. 
Dr.  Blair  treats  of  the  proper  improvement 
of  time.  His  text  is  taken  from  Genesis, 
xlvii.  8.  *'And  Pharaoh  said  unto  Jacob, 
how  old  art  thou  ?''  He  considers  this  ques- 
tion as  suggesting  to  every  person,  to  w^hom 
it  may  be  put,  three  different  portions  of 
his  life,  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  fu- 
ture. He  proposes  to  consider  the  man- 
ner in  which  we  ought  to  be  affeded,  by 
attending  to  each  of  these  periods  3  and,  with 
his  usual  judgment  arranges  his  observations 
with  such  correctness,  as  to  carry  his  reader 
constantly  along  with  him. 

The  first  observation,  under  the  first  head, 
is  so  exceedingly  obvious,  that  it  seems  to 


104 

have  been  hardly  necessary  to  make  it. 
**  According  to  the  progress  which  we  have 
made  in  the  journey  of  hfe,  the  field  which 
past  years  present  to  our  view  will  be  more 
or  less  extensive."  The  justice  of  this  remark 
is  seen  intuitively,  like  that  of  an  axiom. 
It  must  strike  every  body  to  be  true  that 
can  think  at  all,  yet  nothing  can  be  found- 
ed upon  it  as  a  first  principle  in  science. 
It  does  not  appear,  that,  in  this  part  of  the 
discourse,  any  remark  drops  from  the 
preacher  that  is  striking  or  uncommon.  No 
thought  seems  to  have  been  borrowed;  but 
few,  if  any,  carry  the  character  of  vigour 
and  originality. 

The  following  use  of  the  word  significant 
does  not  appear  to  be  entirely  pure.  *'  We 
smile  at  our  former  violence,  and  wonder 
how  such  things  could  have  ever  appeared 
so  significant  and  great.''  The  term  de- 
notes, properly,  the  power  of  suggesting,  or 
betokening,  something  not  expressed,  and 
is,  of  course,  inapplicable  to  those  things 
said  to  be  the  subject  ot  wonder.    Dr.  John- 


105 

son  tells  us,  that  the  compounded  word 
insignificajit  does  not,  with  the  strictest  pro- 
priety, denote  unimportant^  though  good 
authorities  seem  to  sanation  this  use  of  it. 
He  declares  the  simple  term,  in  a  contrary- 
acceptation,  to  be  a  low  word,  and  does  not 
produce  one  instance  with  a  view  to  sup- 
port it. 

Father  Massillon  has  a  Sermon,  in  his 
sixth  volume,  upon  the  same  subjed:,  from 
Matthew,  vii.  33.  *^  y^  ^t^^'^^  encore  avec 
voiis  iin  peu  de  temps  J'  The  method  a.^opt- 
ed  by  the  two  preachers  is  different;  though, 
in  the  second  head  of  the  two  sermons, 
there  is  a  considerable  similarity  in  the  sen- 
timent. Both  condemn  that  restless  bustle 
in  which  most  men  spend  their  lives,  and 
recommend  the  exclusion  of  those  super- 
fluous avocations  which  consume  it  unpro- 
fitably.  The  business  of  a  Christian  is  held 
forth  to  be,  not  that  of  filling  up  every  mo- 
ment with  useless  engagements,  but  of  re- 
gulating the  distribution  of  time  as  reason 
and  religion  dired:.  A  wise  man,  it  is  said 
14 


106 

by  both,  while  he  neglefts  none  of  his  du- 
ties, tries  to  ascertain  which  are  the  most 
important,  and  to  those  in  particular  he 
bends  his  attention.  By  performing  every 
office  of  life  in  its  due  place  and  season,  he 
suffers  no  portion  of  time  to  escape  without 
profit.  By  establishing  a  system  to  which 
he  rigidly  adheres,  he  multiplies  his  days  by 
living  much  in  little  time. 

Nothing  appears  in  this  part  of  Dr.  Blair's 
Sermon  which  Massillon  had  not  said  be- 
fore him  5  and  in  the  execution  throughout, 
it  should  seem  the  French  preacher  has  ra- 
ther the  advantage. 

One  of  the  most  elaborate  Sermons  that 
Dr.  Blair  ever  composed,  is  the  fourth  in 
the  first  volume.  His  text  is  in  First  Co- 
rinthians, xiii.  12.  **  For  now  we  see 
through  a  glass  darkly."  His  objed;  is  to 
justify  the  divine  wisdom  and  goodness,  in 
giving  us  but  an  imperfed:  knowledge  of  a 
future  state.  The  nature  of  the  subjed:  evi- 
dently requires  a  greater  reach  of  thought, 
than  most  writers   of  sermons  are  capable 


.107 

of;  and  few  men,  in  any  department  of  li- 
terature, perhaps,  could  unite  the  depth 
which  is  necessary  for  investigating  an  ab- 
struse point,  with  the  elegance  of  expression 
which  shone  forth  in  this  preacher. 

The  introducflion  is  composed  with  such 
art,  as  just  to  unfold  the  matter  to  be  traced, 
without  anticipating  what  might  be  needed 
to  support  the  argument  when  begun.  The 
preacher  commences  his  inquiry  with  a  be- 
coming solemnity,  and  seems  aware  of  the 
difficulties  before  him.  He,  in  his  own  lan- 
guage, attempts  humbly  to  trace  the  reasons 
why,  though  permitted  to  know  somewhat 
of  the  eternal  world,  we  are  permitted  to 
know  only  in  part ;  and  his  purpose  is  an- 
'lOunced  with  sufficient  clearness,  without 
adopting  any  method,  or  regular  division  in- 
to heads. 

Although  the  obscurity  in  which  we  are 
involved,  as  to  the  future  state  of  man,  bears 
a  stri(5b  analogy  to  what  prevails  in  other 
parts  of  religion,  both  natural  and  revealed, 
yet  upon  this  analogy  no  argument  is  founded. 


108 

The  sceptic  is  called  upon  to  correft  what 
he  feels  amiss,  and  to  state  the  precise  mea- 
sure of  information  that  would  remove  his 
complaints.  Upon  a  fuller  display  of  the 
celestial  happiness  than  that  given  us  in 
the  Gospel,  it  is  argued,  that  the  powers  of 
man,  as  an  adlive  being,  would  cease  to 
be  exercised.  Earthly  concerns  would  not 
then  engage  his  attention.  No  objeft  would 
kindle  the  spirit  of  enterprise,  or  urge  the 
hand  of  industry.  Man  would  sojourn  up- 
on the  earth  like  a  melancholy  exile,  and 
languish  in  a  situation,  in  which  the  objedts 
around  him  are  viewed  with  indifference, 
and  deemed  unworthy  of  his  notice. 

Such  a  change  as  the  sceptic  is  supposed 
to  desire,  is,  for  argument's  sake,  allowed 
to  take  place.  The  immediate  consequence 
is,  however,  that  man,  with  the  scene  in 
which  he  is  to  acS  his  part,  would  be  chan- 
ged. The  conflid:  between  faith  and  sense, 
between  conscience  and  desire,  between 
present  pleasure  and  future  good,  would 
cease.     Were  there   no   difficulties  to  sur- 


109 

mount,  it  is  shewn,  there  could  be  no  pro- 
gress towards  perfedion.    tluman  hfe  v^ould 
be  tio  longer  that  state  of  discipUne  which 
is  to  meliorate  the  charader  of  man,  and  to 
fit  him  to  become  an  inhabitant  of  heaven. 
The  presumptuous  wish  of  the  sceptic,  if 
gratified,  only  changes,  without  improving, 
the  purposes  of  his  Creator.     He  proves  in- 
voluntarily the  wisdom  of  God,  who  made 
the  world,  and  the  folly  of  that  man  who 
vainly    attempts    to   amend    it.      As    much- 
light,  it  is  said,  is  let  in  upon  us,  as  our 
unripened  powers  can  bear.     It  is  enough 
to    stimulate   our   desire  of  a  state  that   is 
better,  and  not  so  much  as  to  make  us  neg- 
led  the  concerns  of  that  which  is  present. 
Supposed    blemishes,    then,    in   our    moral 
constitution,    are  real   perfedlions ;    and  the 
defecfts  complained  of  in  the  works  of  God, 
arise  from  a  disease  in  the  eye  that  beholds 
them. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  conceive  a  subtle 
discussion  more  corredly  stated,  or  more 
logically   carried  on.      The  con:iposition  is 


no 

as  elegant  as  the  siibjecft  will  bear.  Still, 
however,  the  great  beauty  of  the  sermon 
lies  in  the  argumentative,  which  is  the  pre- 
dominant part  of  it.  Even  if  the  attempt 
had  been  feeble,  yet  having  for  its  object 
to  justify  the  decree  of  Providence,  it 
would  have  been  worthy  of  him  who  makes 
it.  The  uncommon  ability  displayed,  adds 
infinitely  to  its  merit ;  and  every  reader 
must  be  pleased  to  see  such  talents  as  the 
Almighty  seldom  bestows,  vindicating  his 
ways  against  the  cavils  of  those,  by  whom 
they  are  blamed,  because  they  are  not  un- 
derstood. 

There  is  perhaps  no  one  of  Dr.  Blair's 
Sermons  which  is  more  charadleristic  of  his 
manner  of  preaching,  than  that  upon  Gen- 
tleness. For  writing  on  such  a  subjedl, 
indeed,  he  was  particularly  fitted.  Pos- 
sessing in  an  uncommon  degree  that  gen- 
tleness which  he  delineates,  he  had  only  to 
look  into  his  own  mind,  and  to  give  a  tran- 
script of  what  he  saw  there.  The  Sermon 
is  the  sixth  in  the  first  volume,    and  the 


Ill 

words  of  the  text  are  from  James,  ili.   17. 
**  The  wisdom  that  is  from  above  is  gentle." 

In  the  introdudtion,  the  preacher  does  no- 
thing more  than  state  the  importance  of  his 
subjed:,  and  the  reasons  by  which  he  was 
led  to  recommend  it  to  the  attention  of  his 
hearers.  The  virtue  of  gentleness,  he  tells 
us,  does  not  hold  its  due  place  in  the  estima- 
tion of  men.  Though  one  which,  as  Chris- 
tians, we  are  bound  to  cultivate,  yet  it  is 
degraded  by  many  into  a  mere  external  ac- 
complishment, and  considered  as  a  mark  for 
covering  what  is  offensive  in  manners.  With 
a  view  to  corredl  such  false  notions.  Dr.  Blair 
proposes  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  virtue, 
and  offers  some  arguments  to  recommend, 
and  some  diredions  to  facilitate,  the  prac- 
tice of  it. 

The  virtue  of  gentleness  is  defined  with 
uncommon  precision.  It  is  distinguished 
from  that  passive  tameness,  and  unlimited 
complaisance,  which  form  the  charader  of 
a  sycophant,  and  which  are  destructive  of 
every  thing  like  steadiness  of  principle.  It 
is  described  as  that  branch  of  charitv  which 


112 

makes  us  unwilling  to  give  pain  to  any  of 
our  brethren.  Theie  is  no  particular  period 
at  which  its  exercise  is  more  proper  than 
another.  It  should  diffuse  itself  habitually 
over  our  whole  behaviour,  and  regulate  both 
our  speech  and  our  adlions. 

After  separating  gentleness  from  that  mean- 
ness of  spirit  which  is  unworthy  of  a  man. 
Dr.  Blair  distinguishes  it  from  that  artificial 
courtesy  which  is  learned  in  the  school  of 
the  world.  As  this  last  has  not  its  seat  in 
the  heart,  it  can  never  render  external  man- 
ners pleasing.  It  is  the  snare  employed  by 
the  artful,  when  they  mean  to  entrap  the  un- 
wary, and  the  cloak  of  the  unfeeling,  when 
they  would  disguise  their  intrigues  against 
the  innocent  and  unsuspicious.  True  gen- 
tleness, on  the  other  hand,  is  said  to  be  na- 
tive feeling,  heightened  and  improved  by 
principle.  It  is  as  unwilling  to  inflid,  as  it 
is  i;  idy  to  heal,  a  wound.  While  it  seeks 
to  p'^ase,  it  is  unwilling  to  dazzle,  and  con- 
ceals every  ground  of  superiority  which 
mi^at  be  oppressive  to  those  beneath  it. 


113 

The  pradtice  of  gentleness  is  recommend- 
ed, from  considering  the  duty  which  we  owe 
to  God.  That  greatness,  which  is  conspi- 
cuous in  his  works,  is  softened  by  the  view 
which  he  has  given  of  himself  in  his  word. 
In  the  character  of  our  Saviour,  no  point  is 
so  prominent  as  his  gentleness  and  conde- 
scension. In  his  access,  he  was  easy ;  in 
his  manners  simple;  in  his  answers,  mild. 
Do  we  pretend  resped:  for  his  religion,  while 
we  indulge  that  harshness  and  severity  which 
are  so  contradictory  to  its  genius  ?  If  so,  we 
may  retain  the  Christian  name,  but  we  have 
abandoned  the  Christian  chara<fter. 

The  practice  of  gentleness  is  recommend- 
ed, also,  from  considering  the  relation  we 
bear  to  one  another.  As  society  is  essen- 
tial to  human  happiness,  gentleness  is  the 
duty  which  man  owes  to  man.  The  con- 
temptuous and  hard-hearted  revolt  against 
their  own  nature,  by  foolishly  refusing  to 
others  those  attentions  which  they  may  be 
obliged  to  solicit  in  their  turn.     It  is  in  the 

^5 


114 

ordinary  intercourse  of  life  that  gentleness 
shews  itself.  Great  situations  call  for  great 
virtues  ;  but  the  virtue  recommended  is 
formed  and  supported,  not  by  unfrequcnt 
ad:s,  but  by  daily  exertions. 

Last  of  all,  the  pradice  of  gentleness  is 
recommended  from  the  consideration  of  our 
own  interest.  It  is  the  quality  which  makes 
a  man  rise  in  the  world  without  struggle, 
and  flourish  without  envy.  One  of  this 
description  enjoys  a  tranquillity  that  is  ne- 
ver disturbed.  Viewing  with  indulgence 
the  omissions  of  the  careless,  the  follies  of 
the  imprudent,  and  the  levity  of  the  fickle, 
he  retreats  as  into  the  calmness  of  his  own 
spirit,  and  allows  the  current  of  life  to  hold 
its  course. 

The  pradice  of  gentleness  is  facilitated, 
by  examining  our  own  charader,  and  learn- 
ing what  indulgence  we  may  need.  How 
can  we  entreat  that  forbearance  from  heaven 
which  we  deny  one  another  ?  Can  we  look 
for  clemency  from  our  Judge,  when  we  re- 
fuse it  to  our  brethren  ?    We  are  to  refled. 


115 

too,  on  the  trivial  nature  of  those  objeds, 
which  often  excite  contention.  When  the 
cause  of  animosity  is  gone,  its  eifefts  often 
remain ;  and  had  violence  been  restrained  for 
a  moment,  these  effects  had  never  existed. 
We  are,  above  all  things,  to  regard  this 
world  as  but  a  state  of  passage,  and  keep  at 
a  due  distance  from  those  grating  objeds 
which  every  where  surround  us.  Our  minds 
will  then  become  calm  and  sedate,  and  we 
shall  treat  with  the  mildness  of  a  superior 
nature,  what  in  little  minds  would  call  forth 
the  bitterness  of  passion. 

As  the  sentiment  is  more  than  ordinarily 
correal  in  this  sermon,  so  is  the  language. 
Both  flow  with  uncommon  ease,  and  mark 
strongly  the  author's  distinguished  talents 
for  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit.  At  the 
beginning  of  his  last  head  he  says,  '*  We 
are  rigorous  to  offences,  and  unfeeling  to 
distress."  The  purity  of  the  expression, 
**  rigorous  to  offences,"  may  be  doubted. 
The  term  offenders  seems  the  proper  cor- 
relative to  rigorous.     The  uniformity  of  the 


116 

antithesis,  besides,  might  have  been  equally 
well  preserved  by  opposing  the  participle 
distressed  to  the  adjedlive  unfeelin^y  and  the 
whole  would  have  stood  thus :  '*  We  are  ri- 
gorous to  offenders,  and  unfeeling  to  the 
distressed.'' 

Under  the  same  head  there  is  a  simile,  in 
which  the  resemblance  seems  to  be  rather 
far  pursued.  ''  Easily,  and  from  the  smallest 
chink,  the  bitter  waters  of  strife  are  let 
forth  'y  but  with  difficulty  is  their  course 
restrained;  and  when  once  they  begin  to 
flow,  they  never  fail  to  poison  his  cup, 
who  was  the  first  to  give  them  passage." 
The  purpose  of  the  comparison  appears  to 
be  served  by  the  two  first  clauses  of  this 
sentence,  in  which  the  waters  are  said  to 
be  obeying  their  natural  law.  In  the  third, 
a  new  conception  is  introduced,  and,  by  a 
motion  in  these  waters  not  easily  under- 
stood, they  are  conceived  to  punish  the  per- 
son said  to  have  first  given  them  passage,  and 
to  be  then  doomed  to  drink  them. 


117 

Though  some  objedion  may  be  brought 
to  this  figure,  yet  others  in  the  sermon  will 
bear  the  closest  examination.  The  condi- 
tion of  the  earth,  if  gentleness  were  ba- 
tiished  from  it,  is  beautifully  described: — 
**  The  solitude  of  the  desert  were  prefer- 
able to  it.  The  conflidl  of  jarring  elements 
in  chaos ;  the  cave,  where  subterraneous 
winds  contend  and  roar ;  the  den,  where 
serpents  hiss,  and  beasts  of  the  forest  howl, 
would  be  the  only  proper  representations  of 
such  assemblies  of  men.'* 

When  the  preacher  is  talking  of  the  ha- 
bitual influence  of  gentleness,  he  with  great 
vigour  and  delicacy  of  imagination,  tells  us, 
*^  That  its  exertions  must  not  be  like  the 
bljze  of  the  comet,  but  regular  in  its  re- 
turns, like  the  light  of  day;  not  like  the 
aromatic  gale,  which  sometimes  feasts  the 
sense,  but  like  the  ordinary  breeze,  which 
fans  the  air,  and  renders  it  healthful."  The 
beauty  of  these  comparisons  must  strike 
every  reader.  A  squeamish  critic  may  per- 
haps find  fault  wnth  the  expression,  "  fans 


118 

the  air."  As  the  air  is  the  fanning  sub- 
stance, it  is  not  easy  to  see  liov/  it  is  to 
operate  upon  itself.  That  which  receives 
and  resists  the  agitation,  however  gentle, 
must  be  understood  to  be  grosser  than  the 
fluid  which  undergoes  it.  Take  this  ser- 
mon upon  the  whole,  however,  and  it  may 
well  be  regarded  as  a  masterpiece  in  its  way, 
and  as  one  of  the  best  that  ever  came  from 
the  pen  of  its  elegant  author. 

The  twelfth  Sermon  of  the  fifth  volume 
w^as  the  last  Dr.  Blair  composed  for  pub- 
lication, though  not  the  last  in  the  volume 
of  which  it  forms  a  part.  Nothing,  either 
in  the  sentiment  or  composition,  betrays 
any  failure  in  his  powers.  The  same  vir- 
tuous sensibility  and  discernment  of  the 
human  charader,  which  marked  his  early, 
marks  also  his  advanced  years.  He  re- 
tained to  the  last  the  art  of  instrudling,  and 
even  reproving,  the  thoughtless,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  of  convincing  them  that  he  was 
really  their  friend. 


119 

The  sermon  to  which  we  now  refer  has 
its  text  in  Proverbs,  xiv.  13.  *' Even  in 
laughter  the  heart  is  sorrowful ;  and  the 
end  of  til  at  mirth  is  heaviness." 

The  intention  of  the  preacher  is  to  prove, 
that  those  who  propose  to  themselves  the 
unlimited  enjoyment  of  pleasure,  mistake 
the  nature  of  human  life,  and  the  condi- 
tion upon  which  it  was  bestowed;  that  they 
vainly  attempt  to  counteradl  the  decree  of 
Providence,  and  to  render  their  state  upon 
earth  what  it  was  never  designed  to  be. 
For  this  purpose  he  considers,  in  the  first 
place,  the  obvious  consequences  of  a  life  of 
dissipation,  upon  health,  fortune,  and  cha- 
rafter.  The  first,  he  tells  us,  the  most  va- 
luable of  all  human  blessings,  is  readily  sa- 
crificed at  the  shrine  of  pleasure  -,  and  hence, 
if  life  is  not  shortened,  comes  the  deblHtated 
body,  and  the  premature  old  age.  No  for- 
tune, however  affluent,  can  resist  the  efFedls 
of  profusion  in  those,  by  whom  prudent 
economy  is  disdained  as  a  mean  attention. 
They  become   the    prey  of  the  crafty,   wlio 


120 

fatten  on  their  spoils,  and  see  nothing  re- 
maining to  them  but  the  ruins  of  a  broken 
fortune.  As  the  charader  of  the  dissipated 
man  is  necessarily  conspicuous,  it  is  marked 
at  once,  and  rigorously  condemned.  The 
respedtable  and  the  grave  smile  at  his  follies, 
and  avoid  his  company.  He  thus  either 
dv^indles  into  insignificance,  or  shines  in 
those  fashionable  assemblies  only,  in  which 
it  is  a  disgrace  to  be  seen. 

If  dissipation  be  thus  ruinous  to  the  ex- 
ternal condition,  it  is  shewn,  in  the  next 
place,  to  be  no  less  so  to  the  morals  of 
men.  The  seeds  of  virtue  are  soon  destroy- 
ed by  those  insidious  steps  with  which  the 
love  of  pleasure  advances.  Nothing  is  re- 
garded but  present  enjoyment,  and  plans 
of  improving  on  that  enjoyment  m  future. 
Then  is  the  creditor  defrauded,  the  tenant 
is  racked,  and  friends  are  plundered.  Re- 
course is  had  to  the  gaming  table,  as  the 
last  means  of  supplying  unbounded  ex- 
pense.    To  how  many  bad  passions,    and 


121 

liow  many  base  arts,  does  this  give  rise? 
The  wretch,  that  sits  down  at  this  fatal  ta- 
ble, full  of  eagerness  and  hope,  rises  hag- 
gard and  forlorn,  cursing  his  fate,  and  threat- 
ening, perhaps,  to  end  that  existence,  which 
is  odious  even  to  himself. 

Besides,  the  pleasures  of  the  dissipated 
are  never  found  to  be  unmixed.  That  sense 
of  propriety,  which  is  borne  down  by  pas- 
sion, though  it  cannot  guide  them  to  what 
is  right,  still  makes  them  sensible  of  their 
doing  wrong.  That  conscience,  which  is 
too  feeble  to  diredt,  is  still  able  to  sting 
them.  In  the  midst  of  their  riot,  spedres 
haunt  their  imagination,  and  poison  their 
joys.  The  very  portraits  of  their  ancestors 
seem  to  frown  on  that  licentious  waste,  which 
scatters  the  fortune  which  their  virtues  had 
acquired. 

Last  of.  all,  dissipation  is  shevvn  to  be 
unsuitable  to  the  condition  of  man,  and 
injurious  to  society.  The  mirth  of  the  li- 
centious forces  the  widow  and  the  father- 
less to  weep.  To  supply  their  oppressive 
i6 


122 

demands,  families  are  driven  from  their  ha- 
bitations, and  consigned  to  poverty.  The 
poor  murmur  when  the  rich  revel  in  waste- 
ful excess,  and  issue  from  their  homes,  pre- 
pared, by  those  pretended  friends  who  would 
mislead  them,  for  every  evil  work. 

Dr.  Blair  ends  his  sermon  with  observing, 
that  his  admonitions  refer  to  those  in  the 
middle,  as  much  as  to  those  in  the  highest 
ranks  of  life.  The  modes  of  amusement 
enjoyed  by  the  former  may  not  be  so  re- 
fined, and  their  enjoyments  may  be  grosser. 
Among  them,  however,  there  prevails  as 
much  proportionate  extravagance,  as  much 
rivalry  in  the  competitions  of  passions,  as 
in  the  most  fashionable  circles.  To  serve 
God,  then,  to  attend  to  the  serious  cares  of 
life,  and  to  discharge  faithfully  the  duties  of 
our  station,  are  the  first  concerns  of  every 
good  man ;  and  amusement  and  pleasure  are 
to  be  regarded  as  the  relaxation,  not  as  the 
business,  of  life. 

Dr.  Finlayson,   speaking  of  this  sermon, 
in  the  very  able,  though  short,   Life  of  Dr. 


123 

Blair,  annexed  to  the  last  volume  which  he 
published,  says,  with  much  justice,  that  "it 
is  written  with  great  dignity  and  eloquence; 
and  should  be  regarded  as  his  solemn  part- 
ing admonition  to  a  class  of  men,  whose 
condud:  is  highly  important  to  the  com-^ 
munity,  and  whose  reformation  and  virtue 
he  had  long  laboured  most  zealously  to  pro- 
mote." 

Though  this  discourse  was  written  when 
the  author  was  far  advanced  in  life,  yet  it 
discovers  nothing  like  a  decay  either  of  ia- 
telleft  or  of  fancy.  The  method  adopted 
is  as  stridtly  logical,  and  the  compositions 
as  animated  as  ever.  No  single  concep- 
tion, from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the 
sermon,  appears  to  be  improperly  intro- 
duced ;  and  each  holds  that  exadt  place 
which  belongs  to  it  as  a  part  of  the  whole. 
The  comparisons,  which  are  frequent,  are 
just,  and  elucidate  the  subjedl  they  are 
meant  to  explain.  When  the  purpose  of 
explanation  is  served  by  them,  the  author 
stops,  and  makes  no  demand  upon  the  ima- 


124 

gination  of  the  reader,  which  is  not  willinoily 
granted.  Even  in  those  metaphors  which 
iipproach  each  other  in  point  of  suhjedl, 
there  is  no  mixture  ;  but  the  chaste  ele- 
gance of  the  preacher  makes  each  run  in  its 
own  trac^t,  however  thinly  separated  from 
that  of  the  rest.  Pleasure,  he  tells  us,  not 
regulated  by  temperance,  is  no  more  than 
a  momentary  explosion,  a  transient  gush, 
a  torrent  that  comes  down  impetuously, 
sparkling  and  foaming  in  its  course,  but 
which  soon  runs  out,  and  leaves  a  muddy 
and  polluted  channel.  The  gush  and  the 
torrent  a2:ree  in  referrinof  to  the  violent 
emission  of  water,  and  to  the  shortness  of 
its  duration^  but  the  former  is  confined  to 
no  channel,  and  leaves  nothing  offensive 
when  it  is  gone. 

The  last  Sermon  which  Dr.  Blair  com- 
posed and  delivered,  was  that  preached  be- 
fore the  Society  for  the  Benefit  of  the  Sons 
of  the  Clergy.  It  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  his  friends  prevailed  upon  him  to 
perform  this  service  to  the  church.     Feel- 


ing  the  infirmities  of  old  age,  which  had 
made  him  retire  from  the  labours  of  his 
pulpit,  he  was  afraid  that,  in  this  last  ef- 
fort, he  might  both  disappoint  the  expec- 
tations of  the  public,  and  be  of  less  use  to 
the  society,  than  other  preachers  then  in  the 
vigour  of  life. 

In  the  choice  of  a  text  for  the  occasion  he 
appears  to  have  been  fortunate.  It  is  taken 
from  Jeremiah,  xlix.  1 1 .  *'  Leave  thy  fa- 
therless children,  I  will  preserve  them  alive, 
and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  me." 

Some  observations  upon  the  goodness  of 
God,  form  the  subjedl  of  the  introdu(5tion. 
— Throughout  the  world,  he  says,  there  is 
no  ins  tan',  e  of  mere  pomp  and  useless  gran- 
deur, but  every  thing  ministers  to  the  ge- 
neral good.  The  compassion  of  the  Deity, 
which  is  the  exercise  of  his  goodness  to- 
wards the  distressed,  is  said  to  be  an  attri- 
bute upon  which  the  Scriptures  dwell.  The 
obje6t  of  the  preacher  is  to  inquire,  why 
God  is  pleased  to  represent  himself  so  often 
to   us  under  tliis   view.      Such    discoveries 


126 

are  said  to  serve  two  important  purposes : 
They  furnish  partieular  ground  of  trust  ia 
God,  amidst  all  the  vicissitudes  of  humaa 
life;  and  they  exhibit  the  pattern  of  that 
disposition  which  we  ought,  in  our  mea- 
sure, humbly  to  follow  and  imitate. 

Compassion,  under  the  fir.'^t  head,  is  said 
to  be  that  attribute  of  the  Almighty  which 
gives  a  softening  to  what  is  awful  in  his 
nature,  and  fits  him  to  be  the  objed:  of  our 
trust.  It  is  in  man  the  most  benevolent  of 
his  instincts ;  and  the  behef  of  its  existence 
in  the  Deity,  saves  us  from  being  oppressed 
with  his  greatness.  In  the  exercise  of  it 
among  men,  it  is  accompanied  with  pain- 
ful emotions,  which  cannot  exist  in  the 
supreme  Being.  In  him  there  can  be  no 
struggle  of  feelings,  no  fluctuation  of  pur- 
pose. His  benignity,  undisturbed  by  aay 
violent  emotion,  ever  maintains  the  same 
tranquil  tenor,  like  the  unruffled  serenity 
of  the  highest  heavens.  The  same  princi- 
ple which  prompts  the  Almighty  to  regard 
our  natural  and  external   distresses,  extends 


127 

also  to  those  that  are  spiritual.  It  was  this 
which  moved  him,  in  the  work  of  our  re- 
demption, to  feel  for  the  wretchedness  of  a 
fallen  race. 

Such  a  discovery  of  the  divine  nature 
not  only  furnishes  ground  of  confidence, 
but  is,  in  the  second  place,  said  to  exhibit 
a  pattern,  which  we  are  bound  to  imitate 
so  far  as  we  can.  We  are  desired  to  be 
merciful,  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  merci- 
ful. Compassion  is  said  to  be  the  charac- 
ter under  which  the  Almighty  chuses  to  be 
known.  He  hath  taken  up  the  cause  of 
the  distressed,  and  stated  himself  as  the 
antagonist  of  those  that  would  bear  them 
down.  Without  affedlions  of  benevolence, 
and  works  of  mercy,  the  system  established 
in  the  universe  must  cease.  Between  the 
high  and  the  low  there  is  a  mutual  depen- 
dence. Each,  in  one  way  or  other,  calls 
on  each  for  aid.  Even  among  savage  and 
uncultivated  nations,  the  energy  of  com- 
passion is  felt,  and  its  claims  are  recognized 
ana  obeyed. 


128 

After  establishing  the  two  points  laid 
down  in  his  metho- -,  Dr.  Blair  comes  to  ad- 
dress his  audience  upon  the  subjc6t  of  their 
meeting.  In  the  54th  year  of  his  minis- 
try, when  advanced  age  may  be  supposed 
to  have  corrected  the  prejudices,  and  to 
have  cooled  the  ardour,  of  partiality,  he 
declares  his  convidlion,  that  there  exists  no 
where  a  more  respedable  and  useful  class 
of  men  than  the  clergy  of  Scotland.  Ex- 
ceptions, he  allows,  may  exist  in  so  nume- 
rous a  body;  but  in  general,  while  they  * 
edify  the  lowest,  they  acquire  respect  from 
the  higher  classes  of  men.  The  provision 
allowed  them  from  the  public  may  raise  them 
above  contempt,  but  is  inadequate  to  the 
purpose  of  educating  a  numerous  family,  and 
giving  them  a  footing  in  the  Vv^orld. 

With  a  view  to  stimulate  the  generosity 
of  those  who  heard  him.  Dr.  Blair  repre- 
sents an  aged  clergyman  in  a  situation  that 
is  not  entirely  ideal,  but  may  sometimes 
exist.  He  desires  them  to  figure  such  a 
man,  surrounded  with  a  familv  of  children. 


129 

to  whom  his  chief  care  had  been  devoted, 
and  in  whom  his  heart  had  been  bound 
up.  He  is  supposed  to  have  cheerfully 
expended  his  scanty  stores,  in  giving  all  the 
advantage  to  their  education,  which  his  own 
village,  or  the  nearest  county  town,  could 
yield.  But  the  time  of  preparation  is  finish- 
ed, and  these  children  have  to  go  forth  into 
a  world  which  to  them  is  unknown.  Some 
of  their  father's  friends  have  been  laid  ia 
the  dust,  and  others  have  become  insolent 
through  prosperity.  With  tears  in  his  eyes, 
he  gives  them  his  blessing  as  they  depart, 
and  commits  them  to  the  protection  of  their 
father's  God.  How  happy  if  suth  a  voice 
reached  him : — "  Leave  thy  fatherless  chil- 
dren ;  I  will  preserve  them  alive ;  and  let  thy 
widow  trust  in  me." 

The  preacher  concludes  his  sermon  with 
a  short  account  of  the  Society,  and  men- 
tions the  beneficent  purposes  of  its  mana- 
gers when  its  funds  shall  have  increased. 
He  states  the  signal  success  with  which  the 
sons  of  Scots  clergymen  have  filled  several 

17 


13.0 

important  departments  of  society.  He  bids 
his  audience  observe,  that  some  of  the  first 
scholars,  lawyers,  and  judges,  who  have 
adorned  the  country,  and  of  those  who  rank 
high  in  the  commercial,  the  military,  and 
the  naval  professions,  were  born  and  bred 
under  the  humble  roof  of  a  minister.  He 
tells  them,  that  by  a  seasonable  generosity, 
they  may  be  now  ripening  in  secret  the  seeds 
of  future  genius,  and  giving  the  virtuous, 
who  need  proteftion,  a  fair  advantage  over 
those  in  whom  opulence  supercedes  labour, 
encourages  indolence,  and  perhaps  fosters 
dissipation. 

If  we  consider,  that  the  author  of  this 
sermon  was  in  the  seventy-ninth  year  of  his 
age  when  he  composed  it,  it  must  strike  us 
to  have  been,  even  in  him,  an  extraordinary 
effort.  He  discovers  in  it  a  correctness  of 
thought,  and  an  order  and  delicacy  of  feel- 
ing, which  few  men  possess  even  in  the  vi- 
gour of  life.  In  his  introduftion,  he  anti- 
cipates nothing  which  should  be  reserved 
for  the  body  of  his  discourse;    and   thus 


131 

shews,  that  his  Inventive  talent  was  undi- 
minished :    In  his  division  of  his  subjed:, 
he  is  simple  and  logical;   and  thus  shews, 
that  he  could  yet  view  and  arrange  it  with 
philosophic  precision :     In  the  argumenta- 
tive  part,    he    reasons    forcibly;    and   thus 
shews,  that  he  knew  both  the  strength  of 
the  ground  he  had  seized,  and  the  means 
of  defending   it   from  any  attack.      In  the 
narrative  part,   he  is  concise  and  perspicu« 
ous ;  and  appears  free  from  that  tedious  ver- 
boseness,  which  embarrasses  without  eluci- 
dating, and  is  often  the  concomitant  of  old 
age  :     In  his  peroration,  he  is  animated  and 
persuasive;    and    still   possesses   the   art    of 
knowing  when  and  how    to   take  leave  of 
his  audience,  and  what  are  the  precise  Im- 
pressions   that   should   exist   when    he    re- 
treats. 

This  last  exertion,  then,  will  bear  to  be 
compared  with  some  of  the  best  that  pre- 
ceded it.  If  there  is  any  failure  in  it  at 
all,  it  lies  in  the  part  that  is  properly  the 
pathetic.      When    he  was  a  younger  man. 


13^ 

he  might  have  perhaps  wrought  up  the 
description  of  the  aged  clergyman  taking 
leave  of  his  children  with  more  art,  and 
painted  with  a  more  glowing  pencil  the 
feeling  of  both  at  this  trying  interview.  In 
his  beautiful  sermon  upon  the  charadler  of 
Joseph,  he  is  pathetic  in  a  higher  degree. 
The  feelings  of  the  statesman,  and  of  his 
brethren,  both  before  and  after  he  was 
known  to  them,  are  drawn  by  a  master 
who  had  studied  the  human  heart  through- 
out all  its  windings.  Even  the  most  deli- 
cate emotion  he  traces  to  its  proper  source.; 
and  we  see  at  once  the  magnanimity  of 
Joseph,  and  the  terror  of  his  guilty  brethren, 
tempered  with  admiration  of  his  worth.  The 
interview  between  the  clergyman  and  his 
children,  as  it  does  not  exclude  fiditious 
circumstances,  would  have  admitted  a  co- 
louring which  the  fads  related  of  Joseph, 
as  real  history,  do  not.  Of  course,  it  pre- 
sented a  subjed:  that  might  have  been  more 
easily  embellished,  and  which  made  a  small- 


133 

er  demand  upon  the  talents  of  the  author,  to 
clothe  it  in  its  native  tenderness. 

The  composition  of  the  sermon  is  in  every 
way  worthy  of  its  author.  He  is  in  it,  as 
usual,  temperate  in  the  use  of  figures,  and 
chaste  in  those  which  he  adopts.  His  lan- 
guage is  elegant  and  corred;  so  that  no- 
thing is  to  be  found  in  it,  to  which  the 
most  squeamish  critic  could  objed:.  He  is 
said  to  have  delivered  the  sermon  with  un- 
common spirit.  His  audience  was  one  of 
the  most  numerous  and  respedable  that 
the  country  could  furnish.  Numbers  as- 
sembled from  all  quarters,  to  witness  the 
last  exhibition  of  this  celebrated  preacher, 
and  heard  that  voice  with  admiration,  mixed 
with  regret,  which  they  were  sure  they 
should  hear  no  more. 

After  considering  so  many  sermons,  which, 
with  a  few  circumstances  only  excepted, 
may  be  deemed  excellent  in  their  kind,  we 
may  perceive  the  different  ideas  formed  by 
French  and  English  preachers,  as  to  the 
doquence    of    the    pulpit.       The    French 


134 

preacher  generally  addresses  the  imagina- 
tion and  passions ;  rouses  his  audience  by 
an  animated  harangue  ;  and  is  at  more 
pains  to  embelhsh  a  few  thoughts  thinly 
spread  out,  than  to  exhibit  any  rich  variety 
of  sentiment.  The  English  preacher,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  is  often  of  a  temper 
more  cold  and  phlegmatic,  tries  to  accom- 
plish his  purpose  by  very  different  means. 
He  regards  his  hearer  as  an  intellectual,  ra- 
ther than  as  a  sensitive,  being.  Feeling  his 
own  metaphysical  power,  he  may  trust  too 
much  to  that  of  his  audience ;  and  may 
suppose  them  able  to  follow  what,  in  fadl, 
they  do  not  apprehend.  He  is  more  anxious 
to  convince  than  to  persuade  them,  and 
looks  for  a  higher  and  more  permanent  ef- 
fedl,  from  influencing  the  understanding 
than  the  heart.  The  French  preachers 
complain  of  the  English  mode  of  preach- 
ing, as  ill  suited  to  produce  its  highest 
ejfFe6i:s.  ^'  Les  sermons  cbez  les  Angloisy  sont 
des  discussions  metaphysiques^  plus  convenabk 


135 

a  une  acadamie  quaux  asset7iblees  popiilaires 
qui  se  forment  dans  nos  temples,''"^ 

Between  the  extremes  of  English  accu- 
racy and  French  animation,  the  model  of 
a  perfed:  sermon  is  perhaps  to  be  found. 
He  who  can  blend  these  together  success- 
fully, and  in  their  due  proportions,  seems 
destined  for  eminence  in  the  line  of  a 
preacher.  As  the  emotions  which  he  ex- 
cites rests  not  upon  feverish  sensibility,  they 
do  not  perish  as  soon  as  they  exist.  They 
may  be  laid  hold  of  as  instruments  of  per- 
suasion, that  are  fitted  to  leave  behind 
them  a  lasting  efFedt.  The  person,  too, 
whose  understanding  is  thus  satisfied,  does 
not  acquiesce  in  his  convi(5tion,  as  if  it  arose 
from  a  mathematical  proof.  It  stimulates 
to  adtion  with  a  well-regulated  impulse;  and 
while  it  adds  to  the  wisdom  of  the  hearer, 
it  imparts  to  him  both  the  desire  and  the 
power  of  turning  that  wisdom  to  the  advan- 
tage of  society. 

*  Rhetoiique  Fiancoi?e,  par  M.  Crevier,  Tom.  I.  p.  ij;4. 


136 

One  great  excellency  of  Dr.  Blair's  Ser- 
mons is,  that  they  discover  more  animation 
than  those  of  most  of  the  English  preachers, 
and  less  than  those  of  most  of  the  French. 
Bold  as  his  conception  and  language  often 
are,  they  seem  to  be  always  under  his  con- 
trol. The  figures  which  he  employs  are 
seen  at  once  to  have  a  foundation  in  nature, 
and  rarely  is  any  one  of  them  pushed  too 
far.  The  most  vivid  emotions  which  he 
ever  excites  in  his  hearers,  imply  no  sus- 
pension of  that  reason  which  is  required  to 
temper  them.  His  distribution  of  the  sub- 
jed:  is  simple  and  luminous,  and  each  subor- 
dinate part  is  found  to  hold  the  place  that 
stridlly  belongs  to  it. 

Dr.  Blair's  superior  ability  as  a  preacher 
rests  perhaps  upon  no  circumstance  so 
much  as  upon  the  knowledge  he  had  ac- 
quired of  the  human  heart.  This  know- 
ledge he  earned  by  reading  the  writings  of 
those  most  deeply  skilled  in  the  science  -,  not 
from  much  intercourse  with  men  in  the 
scenes  of  aitive  life.     He  could  make  his 


137 

hearers  perceive  their  chara6ters  in  a  Hght 
that  was  new  to  them.  Leaving  to  others 
those  general  descriptions,  which,  being  ap- 
phcable  ahnost  to  all,  arrest  the  attention  of 
none,  he  spoke  home  to  the  individual  in 
the  language  which  he  understood.  He 
shewed  himself  to  be  not  only  a  corredl, 
but  a  delicate  observer  of  human  nature; 
and  by  the  beauty  and  the  justness  of  his 
execution  in  the  picture  at  large,  could  re- 
concile the  spectator  to  what  would  have 
otherwise  shocked  him. 

If  in  reading  a  French  sermon  it  appears 
to  us  often  florid  and  enthusiastic,  it  would 
do  so  still  more  if  we  heard  it  delivered. 
That  heat  of  imagination  which  led  the 
preachers  of  France  to  employ  figures  of 
the  boldest  description,  would  admit  of  no- 
thing in  their  manner  in  the  least  degree 
cold.  In  their  general  method,  they  affed: 
a  simplicity,  by  limiting  the  number  of  di- 
visions to  two,  or  at  most  to  three.  In  the 
sequel  of  the  discourse,  however,  they  some- 
times become   so   minute,    as  to   break  its 


138 

unity  by  a  needless  corredness.  Their  af- 
fedation  of  learning  is  still  more  striking. 
Passages  are  at  times  seleded  from  the  an- 
cient classics,  with  a  view  to  display  the 
preacher's  erudition,  rather  than  to  instruct 
his  audience.  Large  quotations  from  the 
Fathers  are  taken  for  the  same  purpose, 
and  a  commentary  is  given  upon  a  senti- 
ment couched  in  an  unknown  language, 
which  the  hearers  often  receive  with  a  blind, 
and  an  unprofitable  respect. 

In  the  use  which  French  preachers  make 
of  passages  of  Scripture,  they  are  often  not 
to  be  justified.  They  are  indeed  cramp- 
ed in  their  choice  of  texts,  by  the  custom 
of  taking  them  from  the  lesson  of  the  day. 
The  connection  between  the  text  and  dis- 
course is  thus  inconsiderable,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  preacher's  ingenuity,  it  is  sometimes  im- 
possible to  reconcile  them.  From  this  fault 
even  the  great  Massillon  is  not  exempted. 
He  tells  us,  that  the  spirit  of  God  cannot 
become  stationary  in  our  hearts,  on  account 
of  their  mutability ;   and  that,  in  resped:  to 


139 

US,  it  is  a  rapid  and  fleeting  spirit ;  *^  un 
esprit  rapide  et  passagerJ'  In  support  of 
this  conceit,  he  quotes  that  passage  in  the 
Psahns,  in  which  the  wind  is  said  to  pass 
over  the  flower  of  the  field,  and  it  is  gone. 
**  Spirit  us  pertransibit  in  illoy  et  non  consis- 
tety'  Ps.  ciii.  i6.  One  should  suppose,  that 
the  preacher  was  here  aiming  at  a  species 
of  wit  very  much  out  of  place.  Though 
the  Latin  word  spiritus  may  denote  both 
the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  wind,  yet  this 
will  never  justify  the  absurd  transferring  of 
the  text,  from  the  blast  in  the  desert  to  the 
divine  influence  upon  the  human  mind.  It 
is  no  wonder,  then,  that  the  French  critics 
complain  of  their  preachers  for  so  childish 
a  practice;  and  that  they  cry  out,  '*  que  les 
textes  de  recriture  employes  par  les  predica- 
teurs  doivent  etre  present  is  sous  leur  vraisens^ 
et  non  pas  tires  par  force  au  sujet,  par  des  in- 
terpretations loucheSy  et  des  allusions  arbi- 
tr  aires,'' 

Though  such  scriptural  allusions  are  more 
common  among  the  French  than  any  other 


140 

set  of  preachers,  yet,  even  in  England, 
they  ere  sometimes  found  to  disgrace  the 
dignity  of  the  pulpit.  They  give  to  a  ser- 
mon an  affeded  smartness,  which  is  not 
its  proper  character ;  and  to  a  preacher, 
also,  an  air  of  foppishness,  that  does  not 
become  him.  An  analogy  that  is  so  unna- 
tural and  forced,  weakens  the  argument  in 
place  of  supporting  it.  A  judicious  hearer 
listens  with  impatience  to  an  attempt,  by 
which  he  understands  it  is  meant  to  mis- 
lead him,  and,  because  disgusted  with  one 
part  of  the  discourse,  he  is  apt  to  withhold 
his  approbation  from  others  that  may  really 
deserve  it. 

In  the  resped:  now  mentioned.  Dr.  Seed 
fails  more  frequently  than  the  other  Eng- 
lish preachers,  and  pursues  many  allusions 
to  Scripture  that  are  fanciful  and  strain- 
ed. Thus,  having,  in  his  thirteenth  Ser- 
mon, said,  that  the  universities  have  justly 
been  called  the  eyes  of  the  nation,  he  adds, 
that  if  the  eyes  of  the  nation  be  evil,  the 
whole  body  of  it  must  be  full  of  darkness^ 


141 

But  although  the  French  preachers  some- 
times fail  in  these  respecSs,  they  must  be 
allowed  to  possess  uncommon  merit.  In 
the  management  of  the  bolder  figures  of 
rhetoric,  to  the  use  of  which  passion  only 
and  strong  feeling  lead,  they  discover  much 
art.  Their  speakers  have  been  at  times 
disconcerted  by  the  efFedts  which  their  ser- 
mons produced.  Voltaire  records  this  fadl, 
in  regard  to  Massillon,  and  considers  the 
discourse  which  made  the  audience  start 
from  their  seats,  and  emit  acclamations,  as 
equal  to  any  thing  of  which  ancient  or 
modern  times  could  boast.  To  the  high 
powers  of  Massillon,  indeed,  the  French  cri- 
tics in  general  bear  ample  testimony.  He 
excels  in  that  quality  for  which  we  have 
found  Dr.  Blair  distinguished ;  a  deep  know- 
ledge of  the  world,  and  of  the  human  heart. 
This  talent  he  could  turn  to  its  most  im- 
portant use.  When  he  wished  to  be  pa- 
thetic, he  could  touch  the  precise  string  by 
which  the  feelings  of  his  audience  were  to 
be  roused,  and  he  knew  the  very  point  at 


142 

which  those  feelings  should  stop.  In  his 
cornposition,  besides,  there  is  much  ease ; 
and,  while  he  is  pleasing  every  reader  with 
the  elegance  of  his  language,  it  seems  to  be 
without  effort. 

In  spite  of  the  high  accomplishments 
which  Massillon  must  be  allowed  to  pos- 
sess as  a  preacher,  some  of  the  French 
critics  have  given  Bourdaloue  the  prefer- 
ence. To  the  latter  they  ascribe  more 
depth,  and  a  greater  talent  for  solid  and 
acute  reasoning.  It  would  be  difficult, 
however,  to  shew  instances  in  which  Mas- 
sillon has  failed  in  the  talent  mentioned; 
and,  supposing  any  defecft  in  intelledual 
discernment  to  exist,  it  would  be  more  than 
compensated  by  the  superior  brilliancy  of 
his  fancy.  Bourdaloue  indeed  reasons  well; 
but  the  subtlety  of  his  argument  is  often 
hurt  by  verbose  expression.  He  is  always 
disposed  to  dilate,  and  never  to  condense 
his  reasoning;  and  exhibits  every  prejudice 
of  a  Catholic  in  the  most  striking  colours. 
He  quotes  the  Fathers  in  a  degree  ap- 
proaching to  pedantry;  and  is  at  all  times 


143 

less  disposed  to  instrucft  his  audience  than  to 
set  off  his  learning.  Massillon  and  Bourda- 
loue  may  well  be  allowed  to  have  been  the 
ornament  of  the  French  pulpit,  and  to  have 
carried  the  art  of  preaching  an  uncommon 
length.  Of  the  two,  however,  we  hold  the 
first  to  have  been  the  greater  performer,  and 
regard  him  as  a  model  which  may  be  more 
safely  imitated. 

Saurin  holds  the  same  place  among  the 
French  Protestant  divines,  which  the  two 
now  mentioned  do  among  the  Roman  Ca- 
tholic. He,  too,  is  abundantly  ostentatious 
of  his  learning,  and  refers,  not  only  to  the 
works  of  the  Fathers,  but  to  those  of  the 
ancient  classics,  both  Greek  and  Latin. 
Though  copious,  he  is  less  apt  to  fatigue  his 
hearers  than  Bourdaloue.  He  writes  with 
the  ease  of  a  man  who  thinks  for  himself, 
and  feels  no  need  of  assistance.  In  several 
of  his  sermons,  particularly  in  the  second 
of  the  second  volume,  "  Siir  Flmmensite  de 
DieUy'  he  shews  much  talent  for  discrimi- 
nation.    Of  this  superiority,    however,    he 


144 

seems  rather  too  conscious,  and  courts  occa- 
sions of  making  a  display  better  suited  to 
excite  the  admiration,  than  to  promote  the 
improvement,  of  his  hearers. 

The  eloquence  of  Bossuet,  bishop  of 
Meaux,  is  inferior  to  that  of  none  of  the 
preachers  already  mentioned.  His  "  Orai- 
sons  Fiinebresy'  from  the  solemnity  of  their 
subjedt,  lead  him  to  use  personifications, 
apostrophes,  and  such  rhetorical  figures  as 
require  both  a  bold  and  delicate  hand. 
His  general  execution  is  so  masterly,  that 
he  seems  incapable  of  attempting  what  he 
is  unable  to  efted:.  The  ardour  and  viva- 
city of  his  genius  is  fitted  for  the  animated 
kinds  of  oratory,  which  the  more  corred:, 
but  phlegmatic  genius  of  the  British  sel- 
dom leads  them  to  attempt. 

When  Bossuet  chuses  to  be  pathetic,  he 
employs,  with  unerring  dexterity,  the  means 
that  fit  him  to  be  so.  Every  circumstance 
in  resped  to  time,  to  place,  to  charader, 
is  touched  as  it  should  be;  and  upon  no 
one  of  these  does  he  dwell  longer  than  its 


145 

importance  deserves.      In  his  funeral  ora- 
tion upon  the  death  of  the  Duchess  ot  Or- 
leans,   which    is    justly    considered   as    the 
most  highly  finished,  he  breaks  out  in  the 
following  pathetic  terms :  *'  J'etois  done  en- 
core destine  a  rendre  ce  devoir  funebre  a  la 
tres  haute  et  tres  puissant e  Princesse  Henriette 
Anne  d Anglet err e,  Duchesse  d' Orleans.  Elle, 
que  favois  viie  si  attentive  pendant  que  je 
rendois  le  meme  devoir  a  la  Reine  sa  mere, 
devoit  etre  sitot  apres  le  sujet  dun  disc  ours 
semblable  ^  et  ma  triste  voix  etoit  reservee  a  ce 
dtp  lor  able  minis  t  ere, — 0  vanite!    O  neant  I 
O  TJiortels  ignorajis  de  leiirs  destinees  I    Ueut 
elk  crii  il y  a  dix  moix  ?   Et  vous,  Messieurs, 
eussiez  vous  penses,    pendant  quelle  versoit 
tant  de  larmes  en  ce   lieu,    quelle  du  sitot 
vous  y  r assembler  pour  la  pleurer  elle  ?ne?ne  ? 
Princesse,   le  digne  ohjet  de  t admiration  de 
deux  grands  royaumes,    ri etoit  ce  pas  assez 
que  T Angle t err e  pleurdt  votre  absence  sans 
etre  encore  reduite  a  pleurer  votre  mort  ?    Et 
La  France,   qui  vous  revit  avec  tant  dejoie 
environnee  d'  un  nouvel  eclat  riavoit-elle  plus 

19 


146 

ifa^^re^  pompes  et  d'autres  triomphes  pour 
vo  tSy  a  ■  ret  our  de  ce  voyage  fameuXy  d'ou 
vous  aviez  retnporte  tant  de  gloire^  et  de  si 
belles  esperances  ?  Vanite  des  vanites  I  et  tout 
est  vanite  I  C'est  la  seule  parole  qui  me  reste : 
cest  la  seule  rejlexion  que  7ne  permet  dans  tin 
accident  si  etrange,  une  si  juste,  et  si  sensible 
douleur** 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  oration  upon 
the  death  of  the  Prince  of  Conde,  Bossuet 
gives  a  specimen  of  pathetic  eloquence, 
which  is  indeed  a  masterpiece  5  and  his  apo- 
strophe to  the  deceased  prince,  at  the  end^ 
has  the  happiest  effeft.  The  passage  is 
too  long  for  insertion,  but  it  deserves  to  be 
examined.  Our  English  preachers  rarely 
attempt  any  thing  so  bold,  and  seldom 
bring  their  hearers  to  that  state  of  high 
animation  in  which  they  could  easily  bear 

it- 
Bishop  Sherlock,    at    the  conclusion  of 

the  ninth  sermon  of  his   first  volume,  gives 

a  beautiful  instance  of  personification,    and 

carries  the  figure  as  far  as  could  with  pro- 


147 

priety  be  done.  The  passage  is  as  follows ; 
'^Go  to  your  natural  religion :  Lay  before 
her  Mahomet  and  his  disciples,  arrayed  in 
armour  and  in  blood,  riding  in  triumph 
over  the  spoils  of  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands,  who  fell  by  his  victorious  sword : 
Shew  her  the  cities  which  he  set  in  flames, 
the  countries  which  he  ravished  and  de- 
stroyed, and  the  miserable  distress  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth.  When  she  has 
viewed  him  in  this  scene,  carry  her  into 
his  retirements  :  Shew  her  the  prophet's 
chamber,  his  concubines  and  wives ;  let 
her  see  his  adultery,  and  hear  him  allege 
revelation  and  his  divine  commission,  to 
justify  his  lust  and  his  oppression.  When 
she  is  tired  with  this  prospect,  then  shew 
her  the  blessed  Jesus,  humble  and  meek, 
doing  good  to  all  the  sons  of  men,  patient- 
ly instructing  both  the  ignorant  and  the 
perverse.  Let  her  see  him  in  his  most  re- 
tired privacies-  let  her  follow  him  to  the 
mount,  and  hear  his  devotions  and  suppli- 
cations to  God.     Carry  her   to  his  table,  to 


148 

view  his  poor  fare,  and  hear  his  heavenly 
discourse.  Let  her  see  him  injured,  but 
not  provoked :  Let  her  attend  him  to  the 
tribunal,  and  consider  the  patience  with 
which  he  endured  the  scoffs  and  reproaches 
of  his  enemies.  Lead  her  to  his  cross,  and 
let  her  view  him  in  the  agony  of  death, 
and  hear  his  last  prayer  for  his  persecu- 
tors, *  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know 
not  what  they  do.*  When  natural  religion 
has  heard  both,  ask.  Which  is  the  prophet 
of  God?  But  her  answer  we  have  already 
had;  when  she  saw  part  of  this  scene^ 
through  the  eyes  of  the  centurion  who  at- 
tended at  the  cross,  by  him  she  spoke  and 
said,  truly  this  man  was  the  son  of  God." 

The  liigh  taste  with  which  this  figure  is 
conducfled,  could  hardly  have  been  looked 
for,  from  the  general  strain  of  the  reverend 
prelate's  composition.  In  point  of  solidity 
of  matter,  of  acuteness  of  reasoning,  and 
of  a  manly  and  forcible  expression,  few,  if 
any,  of  his  cotemporaries  could  rival  him. 
The  highest  elegance  of  composition,  how- 


149 

ever,  does  not  present  itself;  and  yet  wt 
occasionally  meet  with  a  figure  introduced 
and  supported  with  such  taste,  as  would  adorn 
any  piece  of  eloquence  whatsoever. 

The  eloquence  of  Flechier  is  of  a  more 
temperate  kind  than  that  of  Bossuet.  Though 
possessing  great  powers  as  an  orator,  he  ap- 
pears to  be  more  disposed,  and  better  able, 
to  restrain  them,  and  must  have  carried  his 
hearers  more  generally  along  with  him. 
His  **  PanegyriqueSy'  like  the  "  Oraisons 
Funebres"  of  Bossuet,  record  the  virtues  of 
men  of  eminence  after  their  death.  In 
these  there  is  to  be  found  little  of  that  ex- 
travagant flattery  of  which  Cicero  com- 
plains in  the  Roman  ^^  Laudat tones.''  He 
draws  his  charadlers  with  a  very  master- 
ly hand.  In  the  *'  Panegyrique  de  Saint 
Louisy'  you  see  as  clearly  the  qualities  that 
give  eminence  to  an  illustrious  monarch,  as 
in  that,  "  I^e  Saint  T^homas  Archeveque  dc 
Canterberryy'  you  see  those  that  distinguish 
a  persecuted  churchman.  His  Sermons 
upon  ordinary  subjefts  are  rich  in  matter, 


150 

which  is  clearly  his  own.  He  exhibits  i; 
mind  that  has  no  need  of  any  resource 
without  itself.  Though  Dr.  Blair's  manner 
approaches  nearer  to  that  of  Flechier  than 
to  that  of  any  of  the  other  French  preach- 
ers, yet  it  does  not  appear  that  the  Dodor 
has  borrowed  any  thing  from  him.  In  his 
Sermon  upon  the  use  of  afflidtions,  you  see 
a  preacher  deeply  interested  in  the  truths 
which  he  is  enforcing ;  but,  in  the  midst  of 
his  ardour,  treating  his  subjedl:  with  a  sim- 
plicity not  commonly  exhibited  in  the  French 
pulpit. 

"  Les  Oeuvres  Spirituelles'  of  Fenelon, 
Archbishop  of  Cambray,  contain  rather 
loose  hints  upon  a  number  of  religious 
subjedls,  than  regular  Sermons  upon  any 
one.  From  these  hints,  however,  owing 
to  the  manner  in  v/hich  they  are  thrown 
together,  succeeding  preachers  may  have 
availed  themselves ;  and  the  plagiarism,  at 
the  same  time,  may  not  have  been  easily 
detedied.  In  his  Dialogues  upon  Elo- 
quence,   the  Archbishop    shews  himiSelf  a 


151 

great  enemy  to  the  division  of  sermons  into 
heads.  Or.  Blair  differs  from  him  upon 
this  point,  both  in  opinion  and  in  pradice. 
Among  EngUsh  preachers,  the  practice  of 
dividing  their  discourses  is  ahnost  constant- 
ly maintained ;  and,  among  the  French, 
the  laymg  it  aside  would  be  productive  of 
the  worst  of  consequences.  The  latter, 
from  the  luxuriance  of  their  imagination, 
are  more  apt  to  deviate  from  their  text; 
and  each  head  serves  as  a  kind  of  land- 
mark, to  guide  the  attention  of  the  hearer, 
and  shews  him  how  each  part  bears  upon 
the  general  dodtrine  which  it  is  meant  to 
establish.  In  these  Essays  of  Fenelon's, 
apostrophes,  and  quotations  from  the  clas- 
sics, are  as  frequent  as  in  the  regular  dis- 
courses of  the  French.  They  are,  on  that 
account,  not  adopted  as  subjects  of  imitation 
by  preachers  in  this  country,  who  have  less 
constitutional  liveliness,  and  are  less  disposed 
to  make  a  shew  of  their -learning. 

It  is  certain,  that  about  the  same  period, 
that  is,    during  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV., 


152 

when  the  most  distinguished  preachers  in 
France  flourished,  and  before  the  restora- 
tion of  Charles  II.  in  England,  there  was  a 
greater  similarity  between  the  Sermons  of 
the  two  countries  than  afterwards.  The  Eng- 
lish preachers  encumbered  their  discourses 
with  scholastic  theology,  and  classical  quo- 
tations; but,  in  certain  parts  of  them,  they 
roused  the  feelings  of  their  hearers  by  pa- 
thetic addresses.  This  mode  of  preaching 
became  unfashionable;  and  both  the  pe- 
dantry and  the  animation  wctq  laid  aside, 
as  unbecoming  the  dignity  of  the  pulpit. 
English  preaching  became  dry  and  argu- 
mentative. A  sermon  was  no  longer  a  per- 
suasive popular  oration,  but  approached 
to  a  cold  metaphysical  essay,  in  which 
man  is  treated  as  a  being  of  pure  intelledt, 
and  as  devoid  of  imagination  and  passion. 
Had  the  hearer  of  such  a  sermon  been  ig- 
norant of  his  duty,  he  would  have  been 
ably  instrufted  in  it ;  but  were  he,  as  most 
hearers  are,  only  unwilling  to  perform  it, 
no  means  of  persuasion  were  so  much   35 


15S 

tried.  The  sermon  did  not  interest  the 
heart;  and  the  audience  retired  from  it,  as 
little  disposed  to  renounce  old  vices,  and 
to  pradise  new  virtues,  as  before  it  was 
delivered. 

In  the  powers  of  abstraft  thought  and 
acute  reasoning,  Dr.  Clark,  Dr.  Barrow,  and 
Bishop  Butler,  have  perhaps  no  superiors. 
Respedlable  as  these  powers  are,  however^ 
they  will  not  of  themselves  form  accom- 
plished  preachers.  Though  a  false  con- 
ception is  screened  by  none  of  the  embel- 
lishments of  language,  yet,  by  such  means 
only,  one  that  is  just  and  profound  gains 
admission  to  the  heart,  and  influences  the 
condud:.  Those  great  divines,  who  have 
been  now  mentioned,  shew  even  a  super- 
abundance of  logical  powers;  and,  to  those 
who  can  follow  their  reasoning,  they  im- 
part both  instruction  and  delight.  In  try- 
ing to  follow  their  discussions,  however,  the 
herd  of  readers  are  lost  in  a  maze,  from 
which  they  can  never  extricate  themselves. 
By  sentiments  not  accommodated  to  their 
20 


154 

apprehension,  they  gain  nothing  in  point 
either  of  intelledlual  or  of  moral  improve- 
ment. The  great  end  of  preaching  fails, 
when  admission  to  the  heart  is  not  courted 
by  those  avenues  which  lead  to  it ;  and  the 
condu<fl  of  man  can  be  successfully  regulated 
by  those  only,  who  know  his  compound  na- 
ture, and  who  take  him  as  he  is. 

The  Sermons  of  Archbishop  Tillotson 
cannot  be  held  forth  as  a  model,  though 
there  is  much  in  them  that  deserves  appro- 
bation. He  is  wise  enough  not  to  address 
men  as  if  they  were  philosophers  merely, 
but  to  employ  in  a  certain  degree  the  insi- 
nuation of  a  popular  speaker.  His  piety 
is  sincere,  and  is  regulated  by  good  sense„ 
It  is  to  be  regretted,  however,  that  his 
manner  is  often  uninteresting,  and  but  ill 
fitted  to  keep  up  his  hearers'  attention. 
His  language,  at  times,  wants  nerve;  and 
he  seems  either  disposed  to  grudge  the 
pains  needful  to  polish  it,  or  to  have  been 
mistaken  in  thinking  that  those  pains  would 
have  been  mispent. 


155 

Bishop  Atterbury  has  perhaps  come  as 
near  the  standard,  by  which  a  good  preacher 
is  to  be  judged  of,  as  any  Enghsh  preach- 
er whatever.  In  his  sentiment  he  is  al- 
ways rational,  and  often  acute  5  and  though 
the  sentiment  is  not  the  most  profound, 
yet  it  is  far  from  being  flimsy.  His  style, 
though  occasionally  careless,  exhibits  much 
elegance  and  purity.  In  a  critical  examina- 
tion of  his  Sermon  upon  **  Thanksgiving," 
Dr.  Blair  does  him  ample  justice,  and  shews 
nothing  of  the  jealousy  of  a  rival.  Other 
Sermons  of  his  seem  to  deserve  equal  com- 
mendation, particularly  that  concerning  the 
miraculous  propagation  of  the  gospel. 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  the  charadler  of 
those  distinguished  preachers,  both  in  Great 
Britain  and  France,  with  whom  Dr.  Blair 
is  entitled  to  be  compared.  Each  preach- 
er, in  each  country,  exhibits,  in  a  certain 
degree,  the  merits  and  the  defeds  of  its 
style  of  preaching,  as  well  as  those  that  be- 
long to  himself.     We  might  be  accused  of 


156 

partiality  to  the  country  to  which  Dr.  Blair 
long  did  honour,  were  we  to  affirm,  that 
he  had  surpassed  the  splendid  beauties  of 
Massillon,  Bossuet,  and  Flechier,  or  the 
clear  and  ingenious  reasoning  of  Clark, 
Barrow,  .and  Butler.  In  the  medium  be- 
tween the  extremes  to  which  each  set  may 
have  leant,  he  seems  to  have  been  desirous 
to  find  a  place.  He  wished  to  temper  the 
glow  of  passion  with  the  coolness  of  rea- 
son, and  to  give  such  scope  only  to  the 
imagination  of  his  audience,  as  would  leave 
the  exercise  of  their  judgment  unimpaired. 
He  tried  to  accommodate  his  discussions 
to  the  apprehension  of  those  whom  he  ad- 
dressed; and,  when  called  to  elucidate  the 
mysteries  that  bear  to  be  inquired  into,  he 
enlivened  the  dark  research  by  the  bril- 
liancy of  a  well-regulated  fancy.  The  re- 
ception which  his  Sermons  have  met  with 
throughout  Europe,  after  being  translated 
into  different  languages,  proves  equally  the 
merit  of  the  preacher,  and  the  candour  of 
his  judges.    Even  those  in  this  country  who 


157 

envy  his  fame,  hold  it  prudent  to  be  silent, 
and  to  seem  to  set  every  thing  like  jealousy 
asicep.  They  are  afraid  to  encounter  that 
tide  of  public  opinion,  by  which  they  ire 
sure  they  would  be  borne  down.  In  France, 
his  Sermons  were  never  said  to  be  inanimate ; 
nor  were  they,  in  Britain,  by  good  judges, 
said  to  be  superficial.  In  both  countries 
they  have,  at  once,  given  pleasure  to  the 
gay,  and  consolation  to  the  serious.  By  such 
a  mixture  of  beauty  and  usefulness,  as  the 
world  never  before  witnessed  in  their  line, 
they  have  given  fashion  to  a  kind  of  reading 
H:hat  had  long  been  discarded.  They  have 
stopped  even  the  voluptuary  in  his  career, 
and  made  him  leave  the  haunts  of  dissipa- 
tion, that  he  might  listen  to  the  preacher's 
reproof. 


158 


After  having  viewed  Dr.  Blair  in  the 
capacity  of  a  Critic  and  a  Preacher,  we 
come  now,  in  the  last  place,  to  view  him 
in  that  of  a  Man.  If,  in  the  two  first  re- 
speds,  he  appears  to  have  a  right  to  our  ad- 
miration, he  will,  in  that  which  follows, 
discover  an  equal  claim  to  our  love. 

In  no  situation  did  Dr.  Blair  appear  to 
greater  advantage  than  in  the  circle  of  his 
private  friends.  This  circle,  however,  was 
not  very  numerous.  Though  his  benevo- 
lence was  general  and  extensive,  yet  he  was 
cautious  in  bestowing  the  marks  of  his 
esteem.  With  the  foibles  of  his  friends,  if 
venial,  he  was  not  apt  to  be  offended.  He 
could  make  the  person  who  had  the  weak-- 
ness,  first  laugh  at  it  in  others,  and  then 
bring  it  home  to  himself.  By  a  happy  mix- 
ture of  gentleness  and  pleasantry,  he  gave 
instnidion    without    giving    offence  ^    andj 


159 

while  indulging  a  species  of  wit,  in  which 
there  was  no  sarcasm,  he  seemed  happy  in 
curing  trifling  defeds. 

In  his  intercourse  with  his  friends,  too, 
he  discovered  the  most  amiable  condescen- 
sion. To  those  whom  he  esteemed,  he 
committed  himself  freely,  and  without  re- 
serve; and  he  took  no  liberty  with  them 
which  he  was  not  ready  to  grant.  By  no 
affected  restraint  did  he  ever  put  them  in 
mind  of  his  superiority,  of  which,  during 
his  social  hours,  he  seemed  utterly  uncon- 
scious. Had  he  thus  unbended  himself  in 
the  presence  of  strangers,  which  he  never 
did,  they  would  have  been  unable  to  re- 
concile what  they  saw  with  what  they  heard 
of  him.  They  would  have  been  like  those 
who  beheld  Agricola  upon  his  return  from 
Britain,  whom  Tacitus  describes  thus  : 
^^  Multi  qucsrerent  famam  pauci  inter  pre  ta- 
rentur.'' 

Several  of  Dr.  Blair's  acquaintance,  par- 
ticularly females,  to  whom  his  company 
was  highly  acceptable,  felt  mortified  occa- 


160 

sionally,  either  with  his  silence,  or  with  his 
talking  upon  subjedts  that  were  trivial  and 
common.  Either  circumstance  they  con- 
strued into  an  involuntary  sign  of  his  reck- 
oning those,  with  whom  he  happened  to  be 
seated,  unworthy  of  his  notice.  This  con- 
clusion, however,  was  far  from  being  just. 
He  was  often  most  attentive  to  the  conver- 
sation of  others,  when  he  spoke  least  him- 
self; and  he  had  a  singular  talent  for  re- 
colleding  the  circumstance,  from  which  he 
judged  of  the  characfter  of  each  person  in 
a  numerous  company.  When  a  silent,  he 
was  not  an  inattentive  observer.  He  did 
not  always  judge  soundly  of  the  people 
around  him ;  and  was  more  frequently  mis- 
taken as  to  their  dispositions  than  their 
abilities.  He  had  more  pleasure  in  mark- 
ing the  excellencies  than  the  defedls  of  the 
charafters  he  was  surveying ;  and  his  si- 
lence was  formidable  to  those  only  vvho 
were  strangers  to  the  amiabieness  of  his 
heart. 


In  order  to  convince  the  female  admirers 
of  Dr.  Blair,  that  he  was  not  supercilious 
in  company,  and  that  he  could  bear  his 
part  in  conversation  upon  any  subjedl  what- 
ever, his  friends  sometimes  laid  plans  that 
were  almost  always  successful.  If  they 
introduced  any  literary  topic  upon  which 
they  seemed  deficient  in  information,  the 
Dodlor  was  always  ready  to  give  it.  Though 
he  scorned  that  silly  parade  with  which 
the  learned  often  try  to  set  themselves  off, 
yet,  when  his  knowledge  could  be  useful, 
it  was  never  withheld.  If  any  new  pub- 
lication was  spoken  of,  that  was  better 
known  to  him  than  to  the  rest  of  the 
company,  he  was  ready  to  satisfy  the  cu- 
riosity of  every  body  around  him.  Any 
misapprehension,  whether  real  or  pretend- 
ed, he  was  ready  to  obviate.  His  critical 
remarks  were,  upon  such  occasions,  wor- 
thy of  himself;  and  his  wish  to  commu- 
nicate whatever  he  knew,  bore  a  testuiio- 
ny,  of  which  he  was  unconscious,  that  he 
was  formed  for   social    intercourse,   and  as 


1%2 

amiable  in  private  as  he  was  respedable  in 
public  life. 

When  Dr.  Blair  was  in  company  with 
those  in  whom  he  had  entire  confidence,  it 
sometimes  appeared  how  much  he  valued 
the  approbation  of  the  world,  and  how 
much  he  was  flattered  with  the  uncommon 
share  of  that  approbation  which  he  had  ob- 
tained. This  weakness  of  his  amused  rather 
than  offended  those  who  could  observe  it. 
He  felt,  perhaps,  that  he  had  earned  his 
fame  by  means  that  were  entirely  fair,  and 
he  had  no  desire  to  maintain  or  to  increase 
it  by  affedted  modesty.  Being  free  from 
every  thing  like  guile  and  jealousy  himself, 
he  was,  at  times,  not  aware  of  their  conse- 
quences in  others.  The  complacency  with 
which  he  occasionally  spoke  of  himself, 
was  construed  by  the  envious  into  a  ridi- 
culous vanity.  It  may  have  been,  how- 
ever, no  more  than  a  just  sensibility  to  de- 
served applause ;  the  fruit  of  an  honest  sim- 
plicity of  manners,  existing  in  a  mind  that 
had    nothing    to    conceal.      It   may   have 


16^ 


sprung  from  what  the  great  historian,  just 
quoted,  calls  a  ^^ Jiducia  inorum  potius  qiia?n 


arrogantta. 


In  mixed  companies.  Dr.  Blair  generally 
took  but  a  small  part  of  the  conversation. 
His  natural  modesty  made  him  averse  from 
obtruding  himself  upon  the  notice  of  others ; 
and  he  was  more  afraid  of  offending  by  his 
loquacity,  than  of  disappointing  by  his  si- 
lence. The  materials  of  instructive  con- 
versation he  possessed  in  a  high  degree. 
But  he  shewed  no  desire  to  add  to  his  conse- 
quence, by  a  studied  display  of  these;  and 
he  was  satisfied  with  the  reputation  which 
he  had  acquired  in  his  profession.  The  un- 
affected simplicity  of  his  manners  attraded 
notice,  when  the  studied  formality,  and  the 
artifices  of  many  around  him,  created  dis- 
gust. It  gave  him  a  command  over  the 
hearts  of  men,  which,  as  he  had  acquired 
without  courting  it,  he  had  no  desire  to 
abuse.  It  does  not  appear,  that  Dr.  Blair 
considered  conversation  to  be  the  channel 
by  which  much  instrudion  was  to  be  ei- 


164 

ther  given,  or  received.  The  insipid  gri- 
mace, with  which  the  talkative  try  to  give 
importance  to  trifles,  he  bore  with  impa- 
tience; and  he  sought,  with  eagerness,  the 
society  of  those,  who,  by  the  artless  gaiety 
of  their  anecdotes,  v/hen  not  too  frequently 
introduced,  furnished  him  with  amusement. 
To  the  occurrences  of  the  day  he  listened 
with  avidity;  and  he  was  often  apt  to  give 
them  a  consequence  which  they  did  not 
possess.  He  considered  the  company  of  his 
fiiends  as  the  best  recreation  from  his  se- 
rious studies ;  and  as,  while  enjoying  it,  he 
made  no  idle  display  of  his  own  learning,  so 
he  witnessed,  with  uneasiness,  such  displays 
upon  the  part  of  others. 

In  private  companies,  and  particularly  in 
domestic  society,  he  was  often  most  at- 
tentive to  those  whom  others  w^ere  apt  to 
neglecl.  He  had  the  art  of  encouraging 
the  diffident,  and  he  knew  precisely  what 
degree  of  notice  would  be  agreeable,  and 
what  oppressive  to  them.  He  took  plea- 
sure in  accommodating  his  conversation   to 


165 

young  people  of  every  description.  By 
such  unexpeded  attentions  from  a  man 
whom  they  were  taught  to  resped:,  he  soon 
gained  their  confidence,  and  he  saw  the 
early  features  of  their  charadters  appearing 
without  disguise.  He  could  thus  success- 
fully encourage  every  sentiment  that  was 
amiable,  and  check  whatever  was  the  con- 
trary. 

The  subjeds  of  conversation  upon  which 
Dr.  Blair  ordinarily  dwelt,  appeared  to  ma- 
ny people  so  very  trifling,  as  to  be  almost 
beneath  his  notice.  Plad  he  not  given  un- 
equivocal  proofs  of  his  being  able  to  at- 
tend to  higher  objeds,  they  would  hardly 
have  believed  him  capable  of  doing  so. 
Upon  every  matter  of  taste,  however  tri- 
vial, he  was  ready  to  give  his  opinion. 
Such  an  objed,  as  the  size,  the  shape,  and 
the  furniture  of  a  room,  if  in  any  degree 
remarkable,  never  failed  to  attrad  his  no- 
tice. From  circumstances  unheeded  by 
every  body  else,  he  could  extrad  enter- 
tainment.   No  novelty  in  the  dress  of  others 


161) 

passed  unobserved  by  him,  and  to  his  own 
he  was  scrupulously  attentive.  In  it  he 
exhibited  neatness  and  simplicity,  but  no- 
thing inconsistent  with  the  dignity  of  his 
profession.  Even  in  advanced  life,  he  re- 
marked the  slightest  change  in  fashions ; 
and  was  often  among  the  first  to  adopt  any 
that  pleased  him.  Such  attention  to  things 
common  and  innocent  endeared  him  to  his 
friends,  without  diminishing  their  resped. 
They  were  pleased  to  see  the  man,  whom 
they  were  accustomed  to  revere  as  their  in- 
structor, bordering  on  an  infirmity,  which 
others  were  apt  to  indulge  to  excess. 

Though  Dr.  Blair  was  susceptible  of  flat- 
tery, and  received  it  with  a  satisfadion 
which  he  was  at  no  pains  to  hide,  yet  he 
was,  in  a  high  degree,  modest  and  unassu- 
ming. The  impetuous  arrogance  by  which 
some  would  force  themselves  into  conse- 
quence, he  scorned  to  imitate.  He  knew 
perfedly,  at  the  same  time,  what  was  due 
to  himself,  and  would  have  felt  the  denial 
of  that  attention,  which  he  thought  it  be- 


167 

neath  him  to  court.  His  uncommon  suc- 
cess in  life,  and  the  flattery  to  which  he 
was  daily  accustomed,  never  produced  in 
him  the  weakness  of  insolence.  He  had 
wisdom  enough  to  see  the  real  grounds  of 
superiority  among  men.  The  false  claims 
of  the  arrogant  and  the  proud  he  would  have 
scorned  to  gratify;  and  while  he  respe6led 
those  friends  only  who  respeded  themselves, 
he  established  a  dominion  in  their  hearts 
which  nothing  could  ever  shake. 

Though  in  the  highest  degree  capable  of 
advising  others,  yet  he  never  did  so,  but 
when  he  knew  that  it  was  agreeable  to 
them.  An  obtruded  advice  he  held  as  an 
insult  to  those  to  whom  it  was  offered. 
His  opinion,  when  asked,  he  gave  with 
diffidence,  and  he  stated  carefully  the  rea- 
son upon  which  that  opinion  was  founded. 
He  was  more  apt  to  encourage  than  to 
mortify  the  persons  consulting  him ;  and 
often  blamed  the  timidity  which  prevent- 
ed them  from  judging  and  ading  for  them- 
selves. 


168 

After  the  establishment  of  the  Society  for 
the  Benefit  of  the  Sons  of  the  Clergy  of 
Scotland,  which  took  place  in  1790,  Dr. 
Blair  had  been  often  solicited  to  preach  the 
annual  sermon  for  that  institution,  which  is 
delivered  during  the  meeting  of  the  General 
Assembly.  With  these  requests  he  could 
never  be  brought  to  comply,  though,  at  the 
same  time,  he  gave  no  reason  for  refusing 
them.  My  honoured  friends,  the  Lord  Pre- 
sident, the  Lord  Chief  Baron,  and  Sir  James 
Stirling,  then  Lord  Provost  of  Edinburgh, 
understanding  that  my  influence  with  him 
was  greater  than  perhaps  it  was,  requested 
that  I  would  try  to  prevail  upon  him  to 
render  the  Society  what  they  deemed  an 
essential  service.  His  fame,  as  a  preach- 
er, they  supposed,  would  procure  a  crowd- 
ed audience ;  and  the  power  of  his  elo- 
quence, by  stimulating  the  liberality  of 
his  hearers,  would  increase  the  Society's 
funds. 

It  was  not  without  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  hesitation,  that  Dr.  Blair  consented 


169 

t6  this  proposal.  When  I  first  mentioned 
it  to  him,  he  told  me,  he  was  afraid  that, 
in  the  seventy-ninth  year  of  his  age,  he 
would  be  unable  to  produce  any  thing,  ei- 
ther creditable  to  himself,  or  instrudlive  to 
his  audience.  Refleding,  however,  on  the 
possibility  of  doing  an  essential  service  to 
many  indigent  and  deserving  young  men, 
his  benevolence  prevailed  over  his  fears, 
and  he  yielded,  at  length,  to  the  solicita- 
tions of  his  friends. 

From  what  has  been  said  before  of  the 
discourse  delivered  on  this  occasion,  in 
which  Dr.  Blair  bade  adieu  to  the  labours 
of  the  pulpit,  it  appears,  that  the  native  vi- 
gour of  his  powers  was  but  little,  if  at  all, 
impaired.  The  execution  Is  worthy  of  the 
preacher;  and  the  spirit  with  which  it  was 
delivered,  aided  the  impression  which  the 
justness  of  the  sentiment,  and  the  elegance 
of  the  composition,  would  have  of  them- 
selves produced. 

As  a  proof  of  its  excellence,  we  may  add^ 
that,  from  the  admiration  with  which  this 

32 


170 

sermon  was  heard,  the  funds  of  the  Societ) 
derived  unexampled  benefit.  The  collec- 
tion m.ade  immediately  after  it,  surpassed 
what  had  been  ever  known;  and  different 
sets  of  hearers  vied  with  each  other  in  the 
extent  of  their  benevolence.  One  gentle- 
man, in  particular,  shewed  involuntarily, 
that  his  taste  in  composition  is  as  high  as 
in  the  other  elegant  arts.  When  leaving 
the  church,  he  told  one  of  the  Elders,  that, 
not  being  aware  of  the  effefts  of  Dr.  Blair's 
eloquence,  he  found  he  had  less  money  in 
his  pocket  than  he  was  disposed  to  give* 
Upon  going  home,  he  sent  a  donation  ex- 
tremely honourable  to  his  own  feelings, 
and  to  the  talents  of  the  preacher,  by  whom 
they  had  been  so  powerfully  roused.  The 
efFedl  of  this  sermon,  even  upon  those  who 
read  it,  was  highly  beneficial  to  the  Socie- 
ty. One  friend  of  Dr.  Blair's,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  London,  who  had  before  sub- 
scribed liberally  to  its  funds,  marked  his 
approbation,  upon  perusing  it,  by  sending 
^.50  in  addition. 


171 

In  the  number  of  those,  whose  influence 
prevailed  with  Dr.  Blair  to  preach  his  ser-* 
mon  for  the  sons  of  the  clergy,  was  Dr. 
Carlyle  of  Inveresk.  This  gentleman,  who 
is  lately  dead,  was  among  the  last  who  lived 
in  habits  of  intimacy  with  Dr.  Blair  during 
the  whole  of  his  life,  and  who  retained  his 
strongest  attachment  and  regard,  to  the  end 
of  it.  To  Dr.  Carlyle  I  should  have  been 
happy  to  make  my  acknowledgments  for 
anecdotes  respeding  his  friend,  which  no  one 
but  himself  could  have  furnished,  and  for 
much  general  assistance  in  the  compilation 
of  this  work,  which  could  have  been  deri- 
ved from  no  other  source. 

The  same  amiableness  of  temper,  which 
led  Dr.  Blair  to  overcome  his  first  difficul- 
ties, with  regard  to  the  discourse  lately  no- 
ticed, appeared  in  the  ordinary  intercourse 
of  life.  Though  meekness  was  a  predomi- 
nant feature  in  his  character,  yet,  even  in 
his  well  regulated  mind,  emotions  of  anger 
occasionally  shewed  themselves.  He  was, 
at  the  same  time,   far  from  being  irritable ; 


172 

and  if  the  feeling  was  ever  stVong,  it  was 
also  transient.  A  mind  endowed  with  such 
exquisite  sensibilities  to  whatever  was  ex- 
cellent in  human  nature,  must,  of  necessi- 
ty, have  been  also  alive  to  whatever  was  de^ 
formed  in  it.  Perfedion  in  the  chara<5ter 
of  man  exists  only  in  the  imagination  of 
those  visionary  theorists,  who,  by  flattering 
his  vanity,  would  undermine  his  happiness. 
If  his  capacity  of  excellence  is  over-rated, 
he  is  lowered  in  the  scale  of  being.  He 
becomes  the  misguided  tool  of  the  interest- 
ed, whose  artifices  operate,  like  the  drug 
that  intoxicates  before  it  poisons.  By  a 
pretended  benevolence,  but  a  real  misan- 
thropy, he  is  exposed  to  that  political,  and 
that  personal  degradation,  from  which,  the 
experience  of  modern  times  has  shewn  us, 
that  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  nation  or  an 
individual  to  emerge. 

Though  Dr.  Blair  was  susceptible  of  an- 
ger, yet  it  approached  to  nothing  that  was 
boisterous,  or  unworthy  of  himself.  If  the 
sun  rarely  went  down,  it  still  more  rarely 


173 

rose,  upon  his  wrath.  He  felt  too  strongly 
the  force  of  those  dodrines  which  he  in- 
culcated upon  others,  to  be  himself  the 
slave  of  passion.  If  the  object  of  his  dis- 
pleasure was  not  too  hastily  offended  with 
the  severity  of  his  reproof,  he  would  have 
devised  apologies  for  the  person  exposed  to 
it.  Sentiments  of  malignity,  or  revenge, 
could  find  no  place  in  his  heart.  If  the  per- 
son who  had  unfortunately  lost,  was  anxious 
to  regain  his  favour,  he  was  almost  sure 
to  succeed;  and  he  might  have  afterwards 
relied  upon  the  sincerity  of  his  friendship 
with  his  wonted  confidence.  What  Tacitus 
says  so  beautifully  of  Agricola,  was  striftly 
applicable  to  this  amiable  man :  "  Cetermn 
ex  iracundia  nihil  siipererat :  secret  urn  et  si^ 
lentium  ejus  non  timer es-y  honestius  putabat 
offender e  qiiam  odisseT 

In  matters  that  would  have  tried  the 
temper  of  ordinary  people.  Dr.  Blair  often 
exhibited  the  most  dignified  calmness  and 
self-command.  The  common  occurrences 
of  life  seemed   to  present  to  him   no  field 


174 

for  the  display  of  his  patience.  His  friends, 
accordingly,  were  sometimes  mistaken  as 
to  the  light  in  which  he  would  view  parti- 
cular actions  respecfting  himself.  To  seme, 
which  they  regarded  as  trivial,  he  attached 
consequence ;  and  in  others,  which  they 
thought  unpardonable,  he  saw  nothing  to 
offend. 

When  Dr.  Blair  published  his  Ledures 
in  1783,  he  was  desirous  that  his  friends 
should  revise  them.  He  wished  to  profit 
by  their  remarks,  and  to  corred,  in  a  se- 
cond edition,  whatever  they  might  con- 
vince him  was  faulty  in  the  first.  Among 
others,  he  requested  the  author  of  this  me- 
moir to  peruse  the  Leftures,  which  he  had 
often  heard  delivered ;  and  to  try,  particu- 
larly, to  discover  any  thing  in  the  style 
that  was  ungrammatical.  Though  Dr.  Blair 
had  every  right  to  command  my  services, 
yet,  upon  this  occasion,  I  was  rather  un- 
willing to  grant  them.  Had  I  read  the 
book  for  amusement  merely,  'and  percei- 
ved   any   thing    questionable    in    the    Ian- 


175 

guage,  I  should  have  been  disposed  rather  to 
suppress  than  to  mention  it;  and  it  did  not 
seem  to  become  me  to  judge  of  the  execution 
of  that  master,  to  whom  I  owed  any  critical 
skill  I  possessed.  My  learned  friend,  how- 
ever, pressed  his  request  in  such  terms,  that 
it  was  impossible  to  deny  it. 

Though  I  undertook  the  duty  assigned 
me  with  reludlance,  yet  I  resolved  to  per- 
form it  in  the  best  way  I  could.  The  can- 
dour of  the  learned  author  of  the  Lecflures 
I  had  often  experienced;  and  if  the  task 
were  improperly  executed,  he  knew  that  it 
was  not  courted.  I  ran  over  the  book  so 
quickly  at  first,  in  order  to  catch  the 
thoughts,  which,  though  not  new,  yet  were 
always  agreeable  to  me,  that -the  language 
hardly  engaged  my  attention.  Upon  the 
second  reading  only,  I  could  pass  from  the 
idea  to  the  expression,  and  judge  whether 
the  one  corresponded  with  the  other ;  and 
I  was  to  mention  any  expression  that  ap- 
peared careless  or  inaccurate,  and  any  sen- 
tence  in  which  an  alteration  in  the  struc- 


176 

ture  woujd  render  the  meaning  more  ob- 
vious. 

When  my  investigations  began,  more 
things  appeared  deserving  of  remark  than 
I  at  first  imagined.  Though  the  list  of 
grammatical  inaccuracies,  however,  swelled 
upon  me  considerably,  yet  I  found  myself 
bound,  in  duty,  to  communicate  it  to  my 
honoured  friend.  The  request  of  Dr.  Blair 
had  no  appearance  of  being  purely  compli- 
mentary. Had  he  supposed,  that  my  ob- 
servations could  be  of  no  use  to  him,  he 
would  not  have  laid  his  commands  on  me 
to  furnish  them.  At  all  events,  I  held  it 
equally  dishonourable  to  express  approba- 
tion where  I  was  not  pleased,  and  to  conceal 
what  appeared  to  me  faulty. 

As  soon  as  I  had  transmitted  my  re- 
marks to  Dr.  Blair,  he  returned  me  his  best 
thanks  for  the  trouble  they  must  have  cost 
me.  He  was  polite  enough  to  add,  that 
he  was  happy  to  find  them  so  copious,  as, 
though  he  had  not  then  had  time  to  read 
the  whole,  he  perceived  they  were  such  as 


177 

he  wished  them  to  be.  I  had  afterwards 
the  satisfadtion  to  find,  that  my  criticism, 
far  from  being  offensive,  was  highly  accept- 
able to  him.  He  regretted,  that  some  others, 
upon  whose  opinion  he  depended,  had  not 
taken  the  same  trouble.  He  told  me,  that 
he  did  not  agree  with  me  in  every  instance, 
but  was  candid  enough  to  say,  that  he 
agreed  with  me  in  many  more  than  he 
could  have  wished.  The  number  of  inac- 
curacies, which  were  not  to  be  palliated, 
he  said  surprised  him.  This  he  ascribed  to 
the  hurry  in  which  a  number  of  his  Lec- 
tures had  been  written  when  he  was  appoint- 
ed to  his  office ;  and  he  added,  that  when  a 
composition  was  careless  in  its  first  draught, 
it  was  almost  impossible  afterwards  to  make 
it  corredb. 

From  the  anecdote  just  related,  two 
things  may  be  inferred.  The  one,  that 
those  who  supposed  Dr.  Blair  weak  enough 
to  think  himself  superior  to  error,  and  to 
be  offended  when  any  error  was  pointed 
out,  mistook  his  characfber.  The  othei:  is, 
23 


178 

that  when  his  Leftures  were  once  compo- 
sed, they  engaged  little  more  of  his  atten- 
tion. The  whole  force  of  his  mind  was 
then  turned  to  the  composition  of  those 
Sermons,  which  are  certainly  produdlions 
of  higher  merit,  and  upon  the  excellence 
of  which  it  was  his  intention  that  his  fame 
should  rest. 

It  has  been  before  said,  that  Dr.  Blair 
was  fortunate  in  entering  life  with  a  set 
of  people  of  the  most  liberal  sentiments. 
No  petty  jealousies  then  existed  among 
men  of  letters,  all  of  whom,  when  trying 
to  bring  themselves  forward,  far  from  de- 
pressing, were  ready  to  assist  their  neigh- 
bour. The  earliest  literary  friend  with  whom 
Dr.  Blair  was  connedted,  was  the  celebra- 
ted David  Hume.  He  was  a  few  years 
younger  than  the  historian,  but  more  near- 
ly of  an  age  with  him,  than  the  rest  of  those 
men  of  genius  who  at  one  time  adorned 
this  country.  However  much  he  disappro- 
ved of  Mr.  Hume's  tenets  in  matters  of  re^ 
Jigion,    yet  he  respefted  him  as  a  man  of 


179 

.science.  Even  to  the  enemy  of  that  cause, 
which  he  was  disposed  from  principle,  and 
bound  from  profession,  to  support,  he  could 
shew  a  candid  liberality.  He  admired  his 
dignified  callousness  against  the  impressions 
of  public  folly,  when  he  first  appeared  as  an 
historian,  and  foresaw  a  period  when  politi- 
cal prejudice  would  yield  to  the  force  of 
truth.  He  enjoyed  the  liberaHty  of  his 
manners  as  a  private  friend,  and  that  cheer- 
fulness of  temper  which  enlivened  every  cir- 
cle in  which  he  was  a  companion.  He  felt 
the  value  of  that  unsuspicious  gaiety,  in 
which  there  was  nothing  frivolous,  but 
which  was,  in  him,  connected  with  every  ta- 
lent which  mankind  are  willing  to  respeft. 

During  the  time  that  Mr.  Hume  attend- 
ed Lord  Hertford  upon  his  embassy  to  Pa- 
ris, he  was  absent  from  Edinburgh  several 
years.  The  intimacy  was  supported  by  a 
correspondence,  which  has  unhappily  pe- 
rished. The  habits  Qf  friendship  that  sub- 
sisted betwixt  Dr.  Blair  and  Dr.  Robertson, 
were  much  less  frequently  interrupted  than. 


180 

those  between  the  former  and  Mr.  Hume. 
As  they  were  of  the  same  profession,  and 
were  members  of  the  same  University,  the 
intimacy,  which  was  voluntary  on  the  part 
of  both,  was  in  some  degree  unavoidable. 
Whatever  diversity  existed  in  the  charadler 
of  these  two  men  of  letters,  it  did  not  prevent 
them  from  being  intimate  friends.  Dr. 
Blair  beheld  with  admiration,  talents  in  Dr» 
Robertson,  which  he  was  conscious  of  not 
possessing.  He  saw,  without  envy,  that  ad- 
dress in  the  management  of  business,  which 
would  have  done  honour  to  a  statesman,  and 
which  enabled  his  friends  so  long  to  dired 
the  affairs  of  the  Church.  He  admired  that 
moderation  with  which  he  wished  to  effeft 
his  purposes,  and  which,  with  him,  was  al- 
most always  a  successful  instrument.  He 
knew  the  amiableness  of  his  manners  in  pri- 
vate life,  and  respeded  that  disposition  to 
heal  the  differences  of  parties,  which  he 
himself  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree. 

These  intimate  friends,  however,  were  not 
satisfied  with  admiring  the  talents  which  each 


181 

possessed,  whether  in  common,  or  other- 
wise, but  availed  themselves  of  that  critical 
skill  for  which  both  were  distinguished. 
Neither  of  them  ever  presented  a  work  to 
the  public  which  the  other  had  not  revised. 
Devoid  of  every  thing  like  jealousy,  the  re- 
proof that  was  given  without  restraint,  was 
received  like  the  admonition  of  a  friend. 
Their  praises  and  their  censures  were  alike 
sincere.  Each  could  make  allowance  for  a 
friend's  partiality ;  and  could  anticipate,  from 
what  passed  between  themselves,  the  reception 
which  he  was  to  meet  with  from  the  public. 
Dr.  Blair's  connedion  with  Dr.  Adam 
Smith  was  early  formed,  from  a  similarity  in 
their  literary  pursuits.  The  latter,  it  has 
been  said,  set  the  example  of  reading  Ledures 
upon  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres,  and  was 
the  first,  in  this  country,  who  ever  made  the 
attempt.  Upon  any  subjedl,  to  which  the 
mind  of  Dr.  Smith  direded  itself,  it  was  ca^ 
pable  of  throwing  light.  A  timid  inquirer, 
which  Dr.  Blair  naturally  was,  felt  the  be- 
neiit  of   such  a  friend,    and  gladly  availed 


himself  of  every  advantage  which  his  com- 
pany and  conversation  could  afford. 

When  Dr.  Smith  became  a  member  of  the 
University  of  Glasgow,  and  still  more  when 
he  travelled  with  the  Duke  of  Buccleugh, 
the  intimacy  between  him  and  Dr.  Blair  was 
necessarily  suspended.  Upon  the  return  of 
the  former  to  Edinburgh,  the  subjedt  of  his 
studies  had  changed.  From  being  purely  li- 
terary, they  had  become  political,  and  he  was 
about  to  deliver  to  the  world  his  work  upon 
the  Wealth  of  Nations. 

It  appears,  in  Dr.  Blair's  Leftures,  that 
he  had  had  the  use  of  certain  manuscripts 
of  Dr.  Smith,  from  which  he  acknowledges, 
that  he  had  taken  a  few  hints.  When  he 
made  the  confession,  his  doing  so  should 
have  saved  him  from  the  charge  of  plagia- 
rism. Dr.  Blair  did  not  know,  that  this 
was  urged  against  him,  both  by  Dr.  Smith 
and  his  friends.  The  harmony  that  subsist- 
ed between  them  accordingly  suffered  no 
interruption.  As  few  men  were  less  apt  to 
be  suspicious  than  Dr.  Blair,  so  his  love  for 


183 

his  friend  continued  unimpaired  till  his  death. 
He  respeded  Dr.  Smith  as  a  man  of  delicate 
taste,  of  extensive  information,  and  of  pro- 
found science.      Still,  however,  he  w^as  not 
blind  to  the  eccentricities  of  his  charader,  and 
was  often  amused  with  the  opposite  views 
which  he  took  of  the  same  subjedt,  according 
to  the  humour  in  which  he  happened  to  be. 
There  is  reason  to  believe,  that  the  ha« 
bits   of   friendship   between  Dr.   Blair  and 
Dr.  Adam  Fergusson  were  not  so  close  as 
those  between  him  and  the  men  of  letters 
already   mentioned.       Still,    however,    they 
lived  upon  intimate  terms,   and  entertained 
for  each  other  a  mutual  esteem.     The  man- 
liness  and  liberality  of  Dr.  Fergusson's  cha-- 
rader    did    not  escape    his    friend's   notice, 
and  accorded  with  that  unaffected   candour 
and  sincerity  which  were  the  ornaments  of 
his  own.     Though  Dr.  Fergusson   had  no 
desire  to  derogate  from    what  was    due  to 
men  of  eminence,  yet  every  unreasonable  pre- 
tension he  treated  with  contempt.     While 
Dr.  Blair   felt  the  applause   of  the  world 


184 

with  a  keenness  that  exposed  him  to  the 
imputation  of  vanity,  he  was,  at  the  same 
time,  free  from  every  thing  like  arrogance. 
He  repaid  the  attention  that  was  due  to 
him,  in  a  way  the  most  acceptable  to 
those  from  whom  it  came.  While  plea- 
sed with  himself,  he  had  no  propensity  to 
be  displeased  with  others,  or  to  make  them 
displeased  with  themselves.  To  every  thing 
excellent  in  his  neighbour,  he  was  ready  to 
give  his  tribute  of  praise.  This  part  of  Dr. 
Blair*s  character  was  particularly  acceptable 
to  Dr.  Fergusson.  He  loved  the  man  who, 
thoagh  beloved  by  every  body  around  him, 
took  no  advantage  of  his  superiority,  and  in- 
creased the  attachment  by  being  wise  enough 
not  to  abuse  it. 

Few  men,  perhaps,  have  commanded  the 
admiration  of  his  friends  more  generally 
than  Dr.  Fergusson.  They  beheld,  in  him, 
the  qualities  of  a  high  and  independent 
mind,  and  the  total  absence  of  every  thing 
like  selfish  intrigue.  Though  a  candidate, 
like  others,  for  literary  fame,  he  had  no- 


185 

thing  of  that  mean  jealousy  which  has  so 
often  been  the  disgrace  of  learned  men. 
The  gaiety  of  his  manners  and  disposition 
made  him  the  delight  of  every  private 
circle.  By  this  he  seized  their  hearts, 
^hile,  by  a  display  of  talents  that  was  not 
ostentatious,  he  commanded  therr  resped:. 
No  one  of  his  friends  formed  a  more  just 
estimate  of  his  accomplishments  than  Dr, 
Blair.  Before  the  public  was  duly  aware 
of  the  merit  of  Dr.  Fergusson's  writings,  Dr. 
Blair  perceived  in  them  a  depth  of  thought, 
and  a  force  of  eloquence,  which  have  now 
given  them  that  place  in  its  estimation  which 
they  are  entitled  to  hold. 

The  friendship  that  subsisted  between 
Dr.  Blair  and  Mr.  John  Home  seems  to 
have  been  of  an  early  standing.  Being 
both  originally  bred  to  the  same  profes- 
sion, their  habits  would  be  long  similar,  and 
many  opportunities  would  present  them- 
selves for  their  enjoying  each  other's  con- 
versation. The  poetical  talents  of  Mr. 
Home  could  not  escape  the  notice  of  one 
24 


186 

so  able  to  appreciate  them  as  Dr.  Blair, 
In  the  tragedy  of  **  Douglas'*  ^many  splen- 
did beauties  would  arrest  his  attention; 
and  the  high  merit  discovered  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  piece,  would  have  been  vi- 
sible even  to  one  who  had  not  the  partiality 
of  a  friend. 

When,  to  the  literary  accomplishments 
of  Mr.  Home,  we  add  the  amiableness  of 
his  private  character,  it  needs  not  surprise 
us,  that  he  and  Dr.  Blair  were  such  inti- 
mate companions.  The  attachment,  ac- 
cordingly, that  began  early  in  their  lives, 
was  continued  as  long  as  it  could  exist. 
During  Mr.  Home's  long  residence  in  Edin- 
burgh, they  had  constant  opportunities  of 
being  together,  and  both  were  disposed  to 
improve  them.  Each  discovered  a  com- 
placency while  in  company  with  the  other, 
that  could  not  escape  the  notice  of  any 
body;  and  it  is  certain,  that  Mr.  Home's 
sentiments  of  attachment  to  Dr.  Blair,  con- 
tinued invariable  to  the  last. 


187 

Those  mentioned  were  the  persons  with 
whom  Dr.  Blair  lived  in  habits  of  intima- 
cy, and  with  whom,  during  the  greater 
part  of  his  life,  he  maintained  social  inter- 
course. There  ^vere  others  who  aded  to- 
wards him  both  as  patrons  and  friends,  ^;iid 
who  were  happy  to  employ  that  influence 
which  was  attached  to  their  situation,  in 
rewarding  his  merit,  and  promoting  his 
success.  In  early  life,  he  was  tutor  in  the 
family  of  the  last  Lord  Lovat,  and  spent 
one  summer  in  the  north  country,  attend- 
ing his  Lordship's  eldest  son,  afterN^ards 
General  Fraser.  In  this  situation  he  me- 
rited the  approbation  of  all  concerned  with 
him.  That  good  sense  displayed  itself  in 
his  youth,  which  was  afterwards  so  conspi- 
cuous during  his  whole  life.  Young  as  his 
pupil  then  was,  he  perceived  his  good  for- 
tune in  being  under  such  guidance ;  and 
gave  early  proofs  of  that  discernment  of 
character,  in  which  few  out-did  him  when 
he  advanced  to  manhood. 


188 

This  attachment  to  Dr.  Blair  seems  to 
have  grown  with  time;  and,  had  the  Ge- 
neral's  letters  to  him  not  been  destroyed, 
like  those  of  his  other  correspondents,  they 
would  probably  have  presented  something 
interesting,  and  worthy  of  his  elegant  pen. 
When  General  Fraser  w^as  appointed  to 
the  command  of  the  71st  Regiment,  he 
testified  his  respedt  for  his  old  tutor,  by 
making  him  chaplain  to  one  of  its  batta- 
lions. This  mark  of  attention  was  alto- 
gether unexpected  upon  the  part  of  the  Doc- 
tor. He  heard  the  General  mentioning  at 
table,  to  some  person,  how  he  had  bestow- 
ed his  chaplainship ;  and  he  immedrately 
asked  if  it  was  so.  The  General  answered, 
that  the  appointment  was  made;  and  add- 
ed, with  great  good  humour,  that,  as  his 
Majesty  had  not  been  pleased  to  pre- occu- 
py his  services,  by  making  him  one  of  the 
Royal  Chaplains  for  Scotland,  he  felt  it  a 
duty  incumbent  upon  him  to  make  him 
one  of  his. 


189 

There  were  few  people  of  eminence,  in 
this  country,  to  whom  Dr.  Blair  was  more 
indebted  than  to  the  late  Chief  Baron  Orde. 
His  Lordship,  in  his  official  capacity,  was  a 
regular  hearer  of  the  Dodor's  sermons  while 
his  court  sat,  and  there  was  no  one  better 
qualified  to  judge  of  the  preacher's  merit. 
This  merit,  too,  was  never  more  conspicuous 
than  when  it  was  honoured  with  the  appro- 
bation of  the  venerable  judge.  Dr.  Blair's 
literary  reputation  was  then  thoroughly  es- 
tablished. He  was  in  the  vigour  of  life; 
and  the  unwearied  labour  which  he  under- 
went in  his  closet,  while  composing  his 
Sermons,  was  repaid  by  the  admiration  of  a 
discerning  audience. 

The  Chief  Baron  soon  shewed  himself 
none  of  the  inefficient  patrons,  who  amuse 
those  they  mean  to  allow  to  court  their 
protection,  with  promises  never  to  be  ful- 
filled. His  Lordship's  honourable  mind 
felt  the  obligation  he  had  brought  upon 
himself;  and  his  resped:  for  the  litera- 
ture of  the  country,    prevented    him  from 


19G 

sporting  with  the  feeHngs  of  a  man  who 
had  then  done  it  honour,  and  who  promi- 
sed to  do  it  more.  In  private  life,  he  be- 
stowed upon  the  learned  preacher  every 
mark  of  his  confidence  and  esteem.  He 
spoke  of  his  Sermons  as  affording  valuable 
instruction  to  all,  but  especially  to  those 
who  were  deaf  to  every  thing  not  recom- 
mended by  the  charms  of  eloquence.  When 
it  was  proposed  to  establish  a  professorship 
of  Rhetoric  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh 
for  Dr.  Blair,  the  Lord  Chief  Baron  took 
an  active  part  in  giving  effedl  to  the  plan. 
His  Lordship  spoke  with  confidence,  be- 
cause he  had  felt  the  energy  of  those  powers 
which  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  should  possess. 
To  this  creditable  testimony  his  Majesty's 
ministers  paid  the  attention  it  deserved;  and 
to  it  the  Dodor  reckoned  himself,  in  a  high 
degree,  indebted  for  his  success. 

But  the  connection  from  which  Dr.  Blair 
derived  most  benefit,  and  which  he  had  it 
in  his  pov/er  to  cultivate  for  the  longest 
period,  was  that  with  Lord  Viscount  Mel-. 


1 


191 

villc.  As  early  as  the  year  1739,  he  had 
dedicated  his  thesis,  "  De  F imdamentis  et 
Obligatione  Legis  NatiircCy'  to  his  Lordship's 
father,  then  Lord  Arniston,  and  afterwards 
Lord  President  of  the  Court  of  Session. 
This  event,  however,  as  it  took  place  be- 
fore Lord  Melville's  birth,  and,  as  the  Lord 
President  died  when  his  son  was  very 
young,  cannot  be  understood  to  have  been 
the  foundation  of  that  friendship,  with 
which  Dr.  Blair  felt  himself  so  highly  ho- 
noured. 

When  Dr.  Blair  began  to  read  his  Lec- 
tures, he  was  fortunate  in  having  hearers 
that  could  discover  their  merit.  Among 
them  he  could  number  Henry  Dundas,  af- 
terwards Lord  Melville;  and,  from  the  ar- 
dour with  which  his  Lordship  pursued  his 
studies,  his  instrudor  ventured  to  predicft 
the  lustre  of  that  career  which  he  was  des- 
tined to  run.  An  attachment,  founded 
upon  mutual  esteem,  could  not  fail  to  be 
permanent.  During  a  great  part  of  his 
long  life.  Dr.  Blair  relied  upon  the  friend- 


192 

ship  of  Lord  Melville,  and  never  once  re- 
pented of  having  done  so.  His  Lordship 
also  found  a  corresponding  steadiness  upon 
the  part  of  the  learned  man,  whom  he 
marked  with  the  most  flattering  attention, 
and  whose  merit  he  believed  he  could  hardly 
over- rate. 

The  growing  reputation  of  Dr.  Blair, 
which  soon  extended  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  British  empire,  proved  the  discern- 
ment of  that  patron,  to  whose  munificence 
he  was  so  much  indebted.  Every  favour 
which  he  received,  was  mult  a  dan  t  is  cum 
laudey  and  did  honour  to  the  hand  that  be- 
stowed it.  In  the  year  1780,  his  Majes- 
ty was  graciously  pleased  to  grant  him  a 
pension  of  X.200.  In  procuring  him  this 
proof  of  royal  favour.  Lord  Melville  would 
doubtless  take  an  adive  part.  It  is  said, 
at  the  same  time,  that  the  marked  appro- 
bation with  which  her  Majesty  honoured 
his  Sermons,  gave  immediate  success  to 
the  request.  The  high  elegance  of  the 
Sermons  was   often   not  so  apparent  when 


193 

they  were  delivered  by  the  author,  as  when 
they  were  read  by  others.  In  his  manner 
there  was  a  stiffness  which  ecHpsed  their 
beauties,  and  to  which  strangers  could  not 
be  reconciled.  It  is  reported,  that  they 
were  read  to  the  Royal  Family  at  St.  James's 
by  the  first  Earl  of  Mansfield ;  and  their 
intrinsic  merit  never  appeared  to  greater 
advantage  than  when  they  came  from  the 
mouth  of  so  dignified  a  speaker. 

From  the  situation  of  the  country  a  few 
years  before  Dr.  Blair's  death,  he  appeared 
in  a  light  that  endeared  him  more  than 
ever  to  the  worthy  and  discerning  part  of 
the  community.  Of  his  ability  as  a  scho- 
lar, and  his  amiableness  as  a  man,  he  had 
long  given  unequivocal  proofs ;  but  his  loy- 
alty as  a  subjedl,  and  his  faithful  attach- 
ment to  the  British  constitution,  had  till 
then  no  opportunity  of  shewing  themselves. 
The  opinion  of  a  person  of  his  eminence  ser- 
ved, in  such  times,  as  a  guide  to  the  simple. 
Many,  who  could  not  juage  corredlly  upon 
political  subjedls,  were  ready  to  be  dntttcd 

25 


194 

by  him,  whose  sentiments  upon  religious  to- 
pics they  believed  to  be  unerring.  He  de- 
clared from  his  pulpit,  that  no  man  could 
be  a  good  Christian  that  was  a  bad  subject. 
The  opinions' of  those  French  philosophers, 
who  wished  to  destroy  subordination,  and 
to  loosen  the  restraints  of  law,  he  rejeded 
with  abhorrence.  He  regarded  those  men 
as  the  authors  of  incalculable  mischief  to 
every  country  upon  earth,  as  well  as  to 
that  which  unhappily  gave  them  birth. 
He  beheld  them  as  disturbing  the  peace  of 
the  world,  which,  with  an  insiduous  ap- 
pearance of  benevolence,  they  pretended  to 
promote. 

Sentiments  like  these  from  the  mouth  of 
such  a  man,  and  spoken  at  such  a  time, 
could  not  fail  to  be  produdlive  of  the  hap- 
piest efFedls  on  the  public  mind.  Even 
with  all  the  energy  which  his  Majesty's 
ministers  possessed,  the  task  of  stem- 
ming the  torrent  which  then  threatened  to 
overwhelm  the  nation,  was  by  no  means 
easy.     Though   few  among  the  learned  in 


195 

Scotland  were  suspected  of  any  desire  to 
betray  the  cause  of  their  country,  yet  even 
among  them,  patriotic  zeal  appeared  in  ve- 
ry different  degrees.  In  the  encourage- 
ment of  this  capital  virtue,  which  both  rea- 
son and  religion  recommend,  Dr,  Blair  took 
a  decided  and  an  adlive  share.  No  mean 
disposition  to  temporize  upon  his  own  part, 
or  to  avail  himself  of  connecSlions  future 
and  casual,  interfered  with  what  he  felt  to 
be  his  duty  at  the  time.  The  state,  he  saw, 
then  needed  the  countenance  and  support 
of  all  its  members ;  and  in  the  moment 
of  its  exigency,  he  was  ready  to  do  what  he 
could.  The  firmness  and  vigour  which  he 
then  displayed,  were  worthy  of  the  descen- 
dant of  that  illustrious  ancestor,  who  was 
mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  this  work. 
From  his  age  and  his  profession,  it  could 
not  be  supposed,  that  he  was  to  take  arms 
in  his  country's  defence;  but  to  the  side 
which  he  so  strenuously  espoused,  he  gave 
all  that  weight,  which  is  attached  to  the 
opinion  of  an  honest  man. 


196 

During  the  crisis  now  spoken  of,  the 
connexion  between  Lord  Melville  and  Dr. 
Blair  grew  more  and  more  intimate.  It 
was  indeed  apparent  to  many,  that  in  pro- 
portion as  his  Lordship  withdrew  his  friend- 
ship from  some  others  of  the  men  of  letters 
in  Scotland,  he  bestowed  it  the  more  large- 
ly upon  him.  Never  was  a  minister  more 
fortunate,  or  more  judicious  in  bestowing 
his  favour;  for,  to  the  honour  of  Dr.  Blair, 
it  can  be  recorded,  that  in  no  instance  did 
he  ever  desert  the  friend  with  whom  he  had 
once  associated,  or  the  principle  which  he 
had  once  avowed.  Ignorant  of  the  arts  of 
politicians,  in  which  he  refused  to  be  hack- 
neyed, he  was  of  all  politicians  the  most 
successful.  His  influence  over  mankind 
rested  on  the  immoveable  basis  of  intrinsic 
worth;  and  he  found  no  occasion  to  earn 
by  intrigue,  that  superiority  which  his  un- 
disguised virtues  could  of  themselves  com- 
mand. 

Although  Dr.  Blair  did  not  court  oppor-  I 

tunities  of  shewing  his  judgment  in  the  bu- 


197 

(iiness  of  life,  yet  he  possessed  that  power 
in  an  uncommon  degree.  His  unwilhng- 
ness  to  mingle  in  its  adive  scenes,  created 
a  suspicion  of  his  being  unable  to  do  so. 
This  opinion  could  be  formed  by  those 
pnly  who  knew  not  his  charader.  Had  he 
chosen  to  be  adtive  in  the  degree  in  which 
he  was  skilful,  we  should  have  admired  his 
energy  as  much  as  his  wisdom.  He  was, 
at  the  same  time,  a  better  judge  of  mea- 
sures than  of  men,  of  whom  his  general 
philanthropy  often  made  him  think  more 
favourably  than  they  deserved.  In  dire(fi:- 
ing  a  piece  of  business,  in  the  execution  of 
which  he  took  no  part,  he  frequently  shew- 
ed himself  an  able  and  a  judicious  adviser. 
The  merit  of  the  counsellor  was  thus  hid- 
den from  the  public  eye,  and  unfairly  trans- 
ferred to  the  ostensible  agent. 

There  were  certain  circumstances  pecu- 
liar to  the  character  of  Dr.  Blair,  which 
rendered  him  in  some  degree  unfit  for  the 
bustle  of  adive  life.  The  delicacy  of  his 
feelings  seemed   to  disqualify   him  for   en- 


198 

during  the  rude  shocks  to  which  scram- 
blers for  power  must  often  submit.  He 
had  too  much  sensibiHty  to  bear  an  unde- 
served insult  with  indiiference,  and  he  was 
too  gentle  to  repel  it  with  the  asperity  it 
deserves.  Against  those  arts  by  which  the 
fawning  often  hide  their  ferocity,  he  was 
not  duly  prepared ;  and  his  most  partial 
admirers  cannot  deny,  that  in  his  discern- 
ment of  charadler,  his  judgment  was  apt 
to  fail  him.  His  perceptions  in  this  way 
were  not  sufficiently  prompt,  to  suit  every 
occasion  on  which  he  was  called  to'  aft. 
To  judge  soundly  of  men,  it  was  necessary 
that  he  should  have  judged  long.  From  a 
belief,  that  the  minds  of  those  around  him 
resembled  his  own,  he  was  too  ready  to 
repose  in  them  an  unsuspicious  confidence; 
and  the  inflexible  integrity  of  which  he  w^as 
conscious,  seemed  to  conceal  from  him  the 
duplicity  of  others.  When  he  mistook  the 
charadcr  of  the  man  with  whom  he  was 
called  to  do  business,  his  error  almost  al- 
ways   proceeded  from  the  excess  of  bene- 


i99 

volence.  The  amiableness  of  the  cause  upon 
such  occasions,  furnished  the  best  apology 
for  its  immediate  efFed:. 

But  ahhough  Dr.  Blair  was  thus  averse 
from  entering  into  the  bustle  of  active  life, 
and,  for  the  reasons  now  mentioned,  but 
imperfedly  fitted  for  it,  yet  he  managed 
his  private  concerns  with  singular  pru- 
dence. In  this  he  was  less  exposed  to  de- 
ception, and  had  better  opportunities  of 
knowing  the  men  with  whom  he  was  to 
ad.  With  an  unsuspeding  simplicity  he 
committed  himself  to  his  friends,  and  was 
as  little  disposed  to  take  as  to  give  offence. 
A  difference  in  sentiment,  or  opinion,  was 
with  him  no  cause  of  enmity  ^  and  he  had 
liberality  to  forgive  what  he  could  not  ap- 
prove. Though  his  success  in  life  was  the 
best  proof  of  the  soundness  of  the  princi- 
ples upon  which  he  aded,  yet  he  never 
under-rated  those  who  followed  a  different 
course,  or  boasted  of  that  wisdom  by  which 
he  obtained  his  obied.    No  man  ever  created 


200 

fewer  enemies,  and  in  no  instance  was  he 
ever  known  to  have  lost  a  friend. 

That  judgment,  for  which  Dr.  Blair  seem- 
ed to  have  been  eminently  indebted  to  na- 
ture, was  fortified  by  habits  of  study  and 
observation.  His  thirst  for  knowledge  was 
insatiable.  In  as  far  as  books  could  un- 
fold to  him  the  nature  of  man,  he  studied 
that  nature  wi^i  indefatigable  attention. 
From  his  profession  as  a  clergyman,  and 
his  engagements  as  a  scholar,  his  inter- 
course with  the  world  was  not  the  most 
extensive.  But  he  was  particularly  conver- 
sant in  history,  both  ancient  and  modern  j 
and  his  memory  was  tenacious  of  the  facets 
which  he  accumulated.  Tenacious  as  this 
power  was,  however,  he  even  in  early  life 
seemed  unwilling  to  trust  it.  He  made  ab- 
stracts of  the  most  important  works  which 
he  perused,  and  thus  had  the  materials  of 
his  knowledge  more  completely  at  his  com- 
mand. 

This  pradise,  by  which  he  proposed  to 
methodize  his  information  upon  every  sub- 


201 

jecfl,  he  applied  particularly  to  that  of  his- 
tory. In  this  branch  of  study,  according- 
ly, his  knowledge  was  alike  accurate  and 
extensive.  With  the  assistance  of  some  of 
his  young  friends,  he  formed  chronological 
tables,  in  which  every  important  fadt  that 
occurred  in  his  reading  found  its  proper 
place.  In  devising  this  plan,  he  discover- 
ed a  reach  of  thought  that  was  hardly  to 
be  expecfted  at  his  age;  and  its  excellence 
was  proved  by  the  use  that  was  afterwards 
made  of  it.  This  system,  the  invention  of 
a  student  for  his  private  convenience,  was 
adopted,  improved,  and  published  by  his 
learned  friend.  Dr.  John  Blair,  prebendary 
of  Westminster;  and  every  scholar  knows 
the  estimation  in  which  the  work,  entitled, 
***  The  Chronology  and  History  of  the 
World,"  is  held. 

But  Dr.  Blair  did  not  confine  his  atten- 
tion to  fadls  that  formed  a  regular  history ; 
he  had  a  particular  pleasure  in  the  study 
of  voyages  and  travels.  These  he  consi- 
dered as  furnishing  him  with  the  natural 
26 


202 

history  of  man  in  his  different  stages  of  ci- 
vilization. When  they  were  executed  with 
abihty,  he  considered  them  as  valuable  re- 
positories; and  even  from  those  in  which 
the  execution  was  imperfed,  he  was  wil- 
ling to  glean  whatever  was  worthy  of  no- 
tice. As  it  was  his  duty  in  his  Sermons  to 
say  what  man  ought  to  be,  so  he  was  anxious 
in  his  private  studies  to  discover  what,  in 
a  physical  light,  he  ad:ually  was.  In  this 
view  he  was  happy  in  tracing  the  progress 
of  society,  and  in  marking  the  varied  as- 
pects of  human  nature  in  its  different  sta- 
ges. 

Not  satisfied  with  viewing  human  na- 
ture as  it  appeared  in  scenes  that  adually 
took  place.  Dr.  Blair  read  a  great  deal  of 
fidlitious  history.  He  not  only  defended 
this  species  of  writing  against  the  attacks  of 
those  who  decried  it,  but  insisted,  that  it 
might  be  turned  to  very  useful  purposes. 
In  his  opinion,  it  furnished  one  of  the  best 
channels  for  conveying  instruction,  for 
painting  human  life  and  manners,  for  shew- 


203 

jng  the  errors  into  which  we  are  betrayed 
by  our  passions,  for  rendering  virtue  ami- 
able, and  vice  odious.  The  fidions  of  an- 
tiquity he  considered  as  having  been  the 
great  vehicles,  of  knowledge ;  and  the  con- 
tempt into  which  that  species  of  writing 
has  fallen,  of  which  such  fictions  are  the 
basis,  must,  in  his  opinion,  have  arisen 
solely  from  the  mode  of  its  execution. 

In  support  of  this  opinion,  which  is  not 
generally  adopted.  Dr.  Blair  used  to  quote 
the  authority  of  Lord  Bacon.  With  the 
works  of  that  great  philosopher,  it  may  be 
observed,  that  he  was  particularly  conver- 
sant, and  had  borrowed  from  them  rather 
incautiously.  Under  the  first  head  of  the 
eighth  Sermon,  in  the  second  volume,  upon 
Death,  he  has  taken  the  whole  of  the  idea 
in  one  passage,  with  little  variation  in  the 
expression,  from  an  essay  of  his  Lordship's 
upon  the  same  subje(ft.  The  passage  in 
Dr.  Blair's  Sermon  begins  thus  :  **  The 
pomp  of  death  is  more  terrifying  than  death 
itself.     Honour  has  defied  death ;  love  has 


204 

despised  it;  revenge  has  disregarded  it; 
grief,  a  thousand  times,  has  wished  for  it.** 
But  to  return  from  this  digression : — in  sup- 
port of  the  study  of  iidlitious  history.  Lord 
Bacon  observes,  that  the  common  train  of 
affairs  which  we  observe  going  on  in  the 
world,  does  not  fit  the  mind,  nor  give  it  en- 
tire satisfadiion.  We  seek  for  more  heroic 
and  illustrious  deeds,  for  more  diversified 
and  surprising  events,  for  a  more  regular 
and  just  distribution  of  rewards  and  pu- 
nishments, than  we  find  here;  and  because 
we  meet  not  with  these  in  true  history,  we 
have  recourse  to  fiditious.  If  these  sug- 
gestions, in  behalf  of  a  species  of  writing 
that  has  fallen  into  discredit,  be  not  solid, 
they  are  at  least  ingenious,  and,  considering 
the  high  authority  that  supports  them,  they 
deserve  to  be  respeded. 

From  a  convidtion  of  the  truth  of  these 
remarks,  few  people  were  more  conversant 
in  novels  and  romances  than  Dr.  Blair;  and 
to  those  that  were  excellent  in  their  kind, 
he  always  gave  due  praise.      This  part  of 


205 

his  reading  he  at  the  same  time  seemed 
disposed  to  conceal.  When  he  borrowed 
books  that  furnished  him  with  entertain- 
ment in  this  way,  he  did  not  always  tell 
for  whom  they  were  intended,  but  allowed 
it  to  be  supposed  that  they  were  to  furnish 
entertainment  to  others.  From  his  conver- 
sation, however,  it  appeared,  that  he  had 
read  them  with  care,  and  he  shewed  no 
inclination  to  deny  that  he  had  done  so. 
An  indiscriminate  condemnation  of  all  such 
books,  he  regarded  as  a  proof  of  bad  taste, 
and  as  unfair  to  their  authors.  He  insist- 
ed, that  when  happily  composed,  they  af- 
forded frivolous  amusement  to  none  but 
those  who  were  incapable  of  any  thing 
higher,  and  that  superficial  observers  only 
did  not  derive  from  them  the  instruction 
with  which  they  were  fraught. 

It  was  the  moral  tendency  of  such  wri- 
tings, then,  not  the  love  of  the  amusement 
which  they  are  fitted  to  bestow,  that  at- 
trafted  the  attention  of  Dr.  Blair.  The  au- 
thors of  these,  as  of  all  other  comoositions. 


206 

might  occasionally  fail  in  their  attempt ; 
but  the  attempt  itself,  if  properly  made, 
was,  in  his- judgment,  entitled  to  respedt. 
If  the  representation  of  life  and  manners 
was  natural,  it  commanded  his  approba- 
tion as  a  critic,  and  the  moral  had  its  due 
effedt  in  rendering  virtue  more  amiable, 
and  vice  more  odious.  By  thus  seizing 
every  opportunity  of  beholding  human  na- 
ture in  all  the  different  situations  in  which 
it  had  adlually  appeared,  and  might  pos- 
sibly be  seen,  he  was  deeply  skilled  in  this 
**  proper  study  of  mankind/'  What  he 
drew  from  a  variety  of  sources,  he  turned 
to  the  advantage  of  those  whom  he  was 
called  to  instrud:.  To  so  correct  an  obser- 
ver of  human  nature,  such  extensive  know- 
ledge was  of  infinite  use.  It  suggested 
those  delicate  refledions  respeding  it, 
which  charm  every  reader,  and  which  com- 
manded the  admiration  even  of  those  upon 
whom  he  sometimes  obtrudes  disagreeable 
truths. 


207 

That  timidity  and  diffidence  in  his  own 
abiUties,  which  were  unfortunate  both  for 
Dr.  Blair  and  those  around  him,  prevented 
him  from  taking  any  adive  part  in  the  af- 
fairs of  the  church.  In  the  private  con- 
sultations, however,  of  Dr.  Robertson,  Dr. 
Carlyle,  Dr.  Drysdale,  and  others,  who  ma- 
naged ecclesiastical  business,  his  opinion 
was  eagerly  courted.  With  those  clergy- 
men he  lived  in  the  striftest  friendship. 
Though  his  efforts  were  not  so  public,  yet 
they  were  not  less  strenuous  than  theirs, 
for  the  introduftion  of  those  principles  into 
the  General  Assembly,  which  have  influ- 
enced its  deliberations  for  fifty  years,  and 
which  Professor  Stewart  has  explained  in 
his  Life  of  Dr.  Robertson. 

After  the  retirement  of  Dr.  Robertson, 
and  the  death  of  Dr.  Drysdale,  Dr.  Blair 
shewed  himself  still  more  disposed  to  assist 
in  the  management  of  church  affairs,  in  the 
way  that  was  agreeable  to  himself.  The 
aid  that  was  before  useful,  was  then  found 
more  so,    and  gratefully  received  by  those 


208 

to  whom  it  was  given.  Dr.  Blair's  name 
added  dignity  to  the  measure  which  he 
was  knowfji .  to  support ;  and  his  opinion 
though  modestly  given,  had  the  authority 
of  a  law.  Though  he  kept  himself  aloof 
from  the  scene  in  which  his  young  friends 
contended,  yet  he  entered  keenly  into  all 
their  sentiments  and  emotions ;  and  he  often 
tempered  their  warmth  without  ever  com- 
promising their  principles. 

The  influence  which  Dr.  Blair  had  over 
the  younger  members  of  the  church,  was 
greater  than  that  of  any  other  clergyman 
whatever.  Many  of  them  had  been  his 
pupils,  and  with  a  number  of  those  he 
maintained  a  constant  correspondence.  To 
his  good  offices  many  of  them  had  been 
personally  indebted  ;  and  all  respeded  the 
benevolence  of  a  man,  who  was  ready  to 
extend  his  services  wherever  he  thought 
they  were  due.  Into  minds  thus  disposed, 
the  opinions  of  this  venerable  counsellor 
found  an  easy  admission.  Their  intrinsic 
soundness  aided  that  partiality  which  arose 


209 

from  respeft  to  their  author.     Though  he 
never  supported,  in  the  General  Assembly, 
the  measures  which  he  suggested,   yet  the 
measures     themselves    were   vigorous,     and 
adequate  to  the  purposes  of  those  who  had 
courage  to  follow  them.     With  all  their  vi- 
gour,   there    was    no    acrimony   upon    the 
part  of  him  who  devised  them.     His  amia- 
ble mind,  superior  to  every  thing  like  sel- 
fish keennpss,  had  no  desire  to  hurt  the  ad- 
versary, whom  it  was  his  duty  to  vanquish. 
As  his  moral  sense  was  not  less  acute  than 
his  taste,  so,  in  the  condudl  of  business,  he 
scorned    to    take    advantage    of    any    thing 
like  a  trick.     No  man,  who  supported  the 
measures  which  he  recommended,  had  ever 
reason    to    be    ashamed    of   them.      They 
breathed  the  honest  simplicity  of  their  au- 
thor, and  accorded  with  the  native  probity 
of  his  mind. 

The   younger  men,  then,    who    had   to 

propose,  and  to  support  the  views  of  Dr. 

Blair,  in  the  General  AssciL-Hly,  derived  no 

small    advantage  from    the   countenance   of 

27 


210 

such  a  friend.  They  found  in  him  an  ad- 
viser, to  whom  they  could  with  confidence 
resort.  The  unassuming  manner  in  which 
his  opinions  were  given,  equal^^d  the  abili- 
ty with  which  they  were  formed.  Had  he 
assumed  an  authoritative  tone,  it  would 
have  been  duly  respeded.  An  amiable 
modesty,  however,  made  him  appear  not 
to  diredl  where  he  really  did  so,  and  de- 
cline those  submissions,  to  which  his  judg- 
ment, ripened  by  years,  gave  him  an  un- 
disputed claim. 

Dr.  Blair  would,  in  all  probability,  have 
taken  a  more  adlive  part  in  the  business  of 
the  church  courts,  had  he  not  professed 
himself  to  be  ignorant  of  their  forms.  From 
a  belief  of  this  ignorance,  he  left  it  to 
others  to  execute  those  plans,  which  he 
ventured  only  to  devise.  From  this  cause, 
also,  he  never  would  permit  himself  to  be 
named  as  a  candidate  for  the  chair,  in  the 
General  Assembly.  Had  the  honour  been 
agreeable  to  him,  the  Church  would  have 
been  happy  to  grant  it  to  a  son,  so  much 


•211 

celebrated   as   a   scholar,    and  so  blameless 
as  a  man. 

In  respedl  to  his  knowledge  of  forms, 
there  is  no  doubt,  that  Dr.  Blair's  modesty 
misled  him ;  and  at  any  rate,  had  he  need- 
ed instruction  upon  this  point,  he  might 
have  easily  gained  it.  In  those  private 
conversations,  in  w^hich  he  bore  a  distin- 
guished part,  he  witnessed  the  detail  of  ec- 
clesiastical proceedings;  and  in  these,  he 
gave  no  signs  of  his  being  a  novice.  While 
debates  were  carried  on  in  the  Supreme 
Court,  he  was  no  unconcerned  hearer  -,  and 
although  he  never  addressed  the  House,  yet 
he  often  dropt  hints  highly  useful  to  those 
speakers,  who  gave  the  business  its  proper 
shape. 

The  outline  of  the  pastoral  admonition, 
which  the  General  Assembly,  in  1799,  ad- 
dressed to  the  people  under  their  charge, 
was  furnished  by  Dr.  Blair.  In  this,  there 
appears  a  beautiful  simplicity  of  style, 
that  suits  the  plain  docftrine  it  wis  n.eant 
to  inculcate.       The    sentiment    is    happily 


212 

adapted  to  the  condition  of  those  for  whose 
benefit  it  was  intended.  It  displays  that 
Christian  moderation,  that  zeal  for  true  re- 
ligion, and  that  contempt  and  distrust  of 
itinerant  missionaries,  which  were  worthy 
of  the  venerable  author.  This  last  public 
service  may  be  regarded  as  his  legacy  to 
the  church,  which  he  so  long  adorned. 
Those  who  filled  up  his  outline  will  ever 
remember,  with  gratitude,  this  seasonable 
effort  of  a  Reverend  Father,  who  had  then 
passed  the  8oth  year  of  his  age. 

But  Dr.  Blair  was  flattered,  not  only  by 
the  attentions  of  his  brethren  in  the  church, 
but  also  by  those  of  his  patrons,  both  as  a 
Clergyman  and  a  Professor.  Though  the 
Magistrates  and  Council  of  Edinburgh  pos- 
sess great  power  in  the  bestowing  of  bene- 
fices, yet  to  their  honour  it  can  be  said, 
that  they  have  shewn  no  disposition  to 
abuse  it.  In  the  election  of  Professors  for 
the  chairs  in  the  University,  they  have 
been  singularly  chaste  ;  and  without  judg- 
ing themselves  of  the  accomplishments  of 


213 

the  different  candidates,  they  have  num- 
bered and  weighed  the  testimonies  in  fa- 
vour of  each.  Feehng  their  responsibility 
to  the  pubUc,  as  the  patrons  of  an  illustri- 
ous seminary,  they  have  been  anxious  to 
discharge  their  important  trust  with  scrupu- 
lous integrity.  In  the  choice  of  advisers, 
toa,  they  have  shewn  much  wisdom.  Neg- 
lecting the  opinion  of  those  who  were  of- 
ten most  willing,  though  least  able,  to  di- 
re6l  them,  they  have  submitted  to  the 
guidance  of  the  most  distinguished  in  that 
branch  of  science,  for  which  a  teacher  hap- 
pened to  be  wanted. 

From  what  has  been  said  of  Dr.  Blair,  few 
men  can  be  supposed  to  have  been  more  fit 
for  giving  that  aid,  which  the  Magistrates  of 
Edinburgh  may  be  understood  occasional- 
ly to  require.  As  he  lived  much  in  the  li- 
terary world,  and  as  his  society  was  court- 
ed by  people  of  every  description,  his 
means  of  information  were  extensive.  Few 
men  of  eminence,  as  scholars,  were  unknown 
to  him;  so  that,  when  others  spoke  from 


214 

general  report,  he  could  often  give  his  opi- 
nion from  the  surer  testimony  of  personal 
acquaintance.  In  communicating  his  ad- 
vice, it  appeared,  that  he  was  biassed  by  no 
regard  either  to  himself  or  to  his  party.  Su- 
perior to  every  thing  like  political  stratagem, 
he  bore  an  honest  testimony,  that  was  strid- 
ly  consonant  with  the  opinion  which  his 
knowledge  justified.  His  judgment,  like 
those  of  all  men,  might  be  occasionally 
wrong.  Against  the  duplicity  of  the  cha- 
rader  observed  by  him,  or  the  arts  and 
mistakes  of  those  who  reported  it,  he  was 
not  proof;  but  in  no  instance  did  he  ever 
mislead  others,  without  being  himself  de- 
ceived. 

Sir  James  Hunter  Blair  and  Mr.  Elder, 
accordingly,  when  chief  Magistrates  of 
Edinburgh,  saw  too  strongly  the  value  of 
Dr.  Blair's  advice,  not  to  avail  themselves  of 
it.  To  him  they  resorted  with  confidence^ 
when  any  difficulty  arose.  They  knew, 
that,  abandoning  to  others  the  fame  of  a 
politician,  which  he  did  not  court,  he 
could  accomplish,  by  fair  means,  what  the 


21,5 


politician  often  vainly  attempts.  While 
they  followed  his  counsels,  they  anticipated 
that  success  which  usually  attended  them. 
Even  though  the  plans  which  he  suggested 
failed,  they  knew  that  those  plans  would 
bear  examination.  They  would  betray  no 
mean  regard  to  himself,  nor  to  a  party, 
and  refledl  no  dishonour  on  that  respeda- 
ble  body,  over  which  the  gentlemen  who 
consulted  him,  presided.  In  framing  their 
addresses  to  the  Sovereign,  none  could  judge 
more  soundly  as  to  the  matter  to  be  adopt- 
ed ;  and  in  elegance  of  expression,  he  could 
be  rivalled  by  few. 

Upon  the  death  of  Dr.  Robertson,  in  the 
year  1793,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  find 
men  qualified  to  fill  those  situations  which 
he  had  held  with  so  much  honour.  His  li- 
terary eminence,  as  an  historian,  was  known 
and  acknowledged  throughout  Europe.  Fo- 
reigners who  understood  not  the  language 
in  which  his  works  first  appeared,  availed 
themselves  of  the  many  translations  into 
others  which  they  knew.  In  managing  the 
business  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,   he  had 


216 

discovered  much  political  wisdom;  and  his 
eloquence  in  the  Supreme  Ecclesiastical 
Court,  commanded  the  admiration  of  all 
who  could  judge  of  it.  Several  years  pre- 
vious to  his  death,  when  certain  changes 
had  taken  place  in  the  political  influence 
which  diredled  the  affairs  of  Scotland,  he 
judged  it  prudent  to  retire  from  the  public 
business  of  the  Church ;  and  shewed  him- 
self superior  to  that  obstinacy,  which  keeps 
a  man  from  retreating  before  he  is  forced 
to  give  way.  In  the  affairs  of  common 
life,  he  discovered  the  same  good  sense,  as 
in  condudting  those  of  the  public;  and  was 
alike  skilful  in  preventing  and  in  accom- 
modating differences. 

It  was,  perhaps,  more  difficult  to  find  a 
proper  successor  to  Dr.  Robertson,  as  Prin- 
cipal of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  than 
in  any  of  his  other  offices.  To  a  place  in 
itself  respectable,  the  charadler  of  the  in- 
cumbent had  given  additional  lustre.  Du- 
ring his  last  illness,  and  while  he  perceived 
that,  in  spite  of  the  skill  of  his  physicians. 


217 

his  disease  was  gaining  ground,  he  gave  his 
friend  Dr.  Blair  a  proof  both  of  the  Uber- 
ahty  of  his  mind,  and  of  the  sincerity  of  his 
attachment.  He  told  him,  that  he  was 
aware  of  tlie  approach  of  death  ;  that  he 
wished  to  have  a  creditable  successor ;  and 
that,  in  his  opinion,  no  man  had  the  same 
claim  to  fill  his  place  which  Dr.  Blair  him- 
self had.  He  begged,  that  no  delicacy  to- 
wards him,  or  his  family,  might  prevent  Dr. 
Blair  from  making  the  proper  applications ; 
and  assured  him,  that  he  should  die  with 
greater  satisfadlion,  if  he  had  reason  to  an- 
ticipate his  friend's  success.  Sentiments 
of  such  dignified  liberality  upon  so  trying 
an  occasion,  awakened  in  the  mind  of  Dr. 
Blair  those  of  admiration  and  gratitude. 
Though  he  was  at  first  overpowered  by  his 
nice  sensibility  to  whatever  was  amiable  and 
great,  yet  he  soon  made  the  answer  to  be  ex- 
pected from  him.  He  assured  his  friend,  that 
no  prospedl  of  private  emolument  could  com- 
pensate that  of  being  separated  from  one  he 
so  sincerely  esteemed  ;  that  he  hoped  Dr. 
28 


218 

Robertson  would  still  live  to  preside  in  the 
university,  which  he  had  so  long  adorned ; 
and  that  he  himself  would  make  no  prema- 
ture attempt  to  obtain  an  office,  which  he 
was  incapable  of  filling  as  it  was  then  filled. 
From  the  manner  in  which  Dr.  Blair 
conducted  himself  after  Dr.  Robertson's 
death,  it  appeared,  that  he  had  other  reasons 
for  declining  to  follow  his  friend's  advice, 
besides  those  which  he  reckoned  it  proper 
to  mention  to  him.  His  claim  to  the  pre- 
ferment  he  knew  was  acknowledged  by  eve- 
ry body ',  and  he  had  trusted,  that  the  una- 
nimous voice  of  the  country  would  supercede 
the  necessity  of  any  exertion  upon  his  part. 
Hand  semper  err  at  faiiia  aliqiiajido  et  e  It  git. 
The  patrons  of  the  University  perhaps  un- 
derstood, that  if  the  office  ^^  as  an  objed:  of 
his  ambition,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five,  he 
would  have  asked  it;  while  he,  trusting  to 
that  claim  of  literary  reputation  of  which 
he  was  not  unconscious,  left  it  to  his  pa- 
trons to  bestow  upon  him  what  was  its  due 
reward.     A  voluntary  offer  of  such  a  pre- 


219 

ferment,  would,  In  his  opinion,  have  been  the 
most  honourable,  both  for  those  who  were 
to  bestow,  and  for  him  who  was  to  receive  It. 

Had  Dr.  Blair  employed  those  means,  by 
which  such  appointments  are  usually  obtain- 
ed, there  is  little  reason  to  believe,  that  he 
would  have  failed  in  his  objed.  His  friends 
were  both  powerful  and  numerous.  Lord 
Melville's  influence  with  the  rulers  of  the 
city,  which  he  then  represented  in  Parlia- 
ment, would  have  given  immediate  effed:  to 
the  slightest  request  from  him.  Of  his 
Lordship's  partiality,  however,  the  Doctor 
had  no  desire  to  avail  himself.  Knowin/^  and 
approving  his  Lordship's  general  unwilling- 
ness to  interfere  in  the  eledion  of  members 
of  the  University,  and  to  cramp  the  choice 
of  the  eledors,  in  a  matter  in  v^hich  its  fame 
is  so  deeply  concerned,  he  was  the  more  dis- 
posed to  rest  his  success  upon  what  should 
be  felt  as  to  his  own  pretensions. 

When  the  appointment  was  given  to  ano- 
ther, it  is  certain,  that  Dr.  B!air  felt  the 
oversight  as  injurious  to  himself,  and  that 


'220 

he  was  more  affeded  by  it  than  his  friends 
in  general  could  have  supposed.  Flatter- 
ed with  the  resped:  of  the  world,  and  un- 
accustomed to  disappointments  during  a 
long  life,  that  had  been  devoted  to  literary 
pursuits,  he  could  ill  brook  any  neglecl, 
when  that  life  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Be- 
fore the  office  was  disposed  of,  he  appear- 
ed rather  indifferent  about  it ;  and  as  he 
was  incapable  of  playing  a  part,  his  feel- 
ings had  certainly  deceived  him.  Between 
him  and  the  patrons  of  the  university 
there  existed  a  misconception.  He  perhaps 
expeded  attentions  to  personal  merit,  which, 
when  not  called  to  judge  of  it,  they  had  not 
been  accustomed  to  pay;  and  they  perhaps, 
though  they  would  not  have  refused  his  re- 
quest, thought  it  became  them  to  wait  till 
the  request  was  made. 

The  friends  of  Dr.  Baird,  who  succeed- 
ed Dr.  Robertson,  and  who,  in  his  ear- 
ly life,  had  been  much  indebted  to  Dr. 
Blair's  friendship,  did  what  most  men  in 
their  situation  would  have  done,  and  em- 


ployed,  as  appeared  afterwards,  the  only 
means  that  could  have  in  the  end  succeed- 
ed. As  no  rival  appeared  publicly  upon 
the  field,  they  adled  as  if  there  had  been 
no  competition,  and  took  no  notice  of  the 
sense  of  the  country  that  was  not  duly  an« 
nounced  to  them.  By  the  moderation  and 
good  sense  with  which  Dr.  Baird  has  con- 
dudted  the  affairs  of  the  University,  his 
condud:  has  given  general  satisfaction.  To 
the  opinion  of  Dr.  Blair,  during  the  seven 
years  that  he  survived  this  appointment.  Dr. 
Baird  paid  a  marked  attention  -,  and  by  a  be- 
haviour that  was  at  once  dignified  and  unas- 
suming, he  regained  the  confidence  and  the 
attachment  of  the  amiable  old  man. 

As  the  long  life  of  Dr.  Blair  was  spent 
in  the  unremitted  pursuit  of  laudable  stu- 
dies, and  in  the  faithful  discharge  of  his 
clerical  functions-  so  during  the  evening  of 
it,  he  enjoyed  a  serenity  of  mind  with 
v/hich  few  were  ever  blessed.  While  his 
own  refledions  could  suggest  nothing  that 
was  disagreeable,  the  world  was  presenting 


ooo 


to  him  constant  marks  of  its  respe(f(:.  Even 
in  old  age,  he  shewed  a  gaiety  of  disposi- 
tion v/hich  seldom  appears  in  others  in  the 
early  stages  of  Hfe.  While  he  made  trifling 
objeds  give  place  to  important  ones,  from 
the  former  he  could  at  timxs  derive  enter- 
tainment. He  was  happily  free  from  that 
disgusting  austerity  of  manner,  which  is 
never  known  to  unbend.  He  could  occa- 
sionally take  part  in  the  playfulness  of 
those,  into  whose  minds  his  elevated  con- 
ceptions could  find  no  admission;  and  no 
gloomy  or  peevish  impression  ever  disturb- 
ed the  tranquillity  of  his  own.  Though  the 
love  of  fame,  which  was  his  ruling  passion, 
was  ardent,  yet  it  was  fully  gratified;  and, 
the  place  he  held  in  the  republic  of  letters, 
was  the  fruit  of  that  patient  industry,  by 
which  he  ripened  the  talents  with  which 
nature  had  blessed  him. 

In  April  1748,  he  married  his  cousin 
Miss  Katharine  Bannatyne,  daughter  of  the 
Reverend  James  Bannatyne,  one  of  the  mi- 
nisters of  EdinburgPi.      From  his  connec- 


223 

tion  with  her,  which  lasted  forty-seven 
years,  he  derived  much  domestic  happi- 
ness; and  upon  her  death,  which  happen- 
ed five  years  before  his  own,  he  shewed 
that  time  had  not  blunted  his  sensibility, 
and  that  he  felt  deeply  the  weight  of  his 
misfortune.  She  direded  his  family  af- 
fairs with  the  most  prudent  attention ;  and 
upon  all  occasions  discovered  a  strength  of 
understanding,  that  is  seldom  to  be  found 
in  her  sex.  By  her  he  had  one  son  and 
one  daughter.  The  former  died  in  infancy. 
Miss  Blair  died  at  the  age  of  twenty ;  and 
her  death  was  deeply  regretted  on  her  own 
account,  as  well  as  on  that  of  her  aifflided 
parents.  She  was  eminently  distinguished 
for  those  accompHshments  which  became 
her  age  and  sex ;  and  by  her  proficiency  in 
some  of  the  fine  arts,  shewed  clearly  that 
she  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  inherit 
her  father's  taste. 

In  bearing  the  heaviest  strokes  that  can 
rend  the  heart  of  a  husband  aiv.i  a  fiither, 
Dr.  Blair  displayed  tlie  power  of  that  reli- 


224 

gion  of  which  he  was  the  faithful  iDinister* 
When  the  rod  was  laid  upon  him,  he  bent 
under  it,  and  felt  the  blow  in  all  its  seve- 
rity. By  no  aifeded  apathy  did  he  chal- 
leni^e  the  admiration  of  fools.  While  the 
depth  of  his  wound  was  visible  to  all  who 
knew  him,  his  patience  and  resignation 
were  alike  conspicuous.  He  was  seen  ap- 
plying to  himself  that  Christian  balm, 
which  with  much  success  he  had  adminis- 
tered to  others;  and  as  his  esteemed  col- 
league Dr.  Finlayson  says  of  him,  with 
much  truth  of  sentiment,  and  elegance  of 
expression^  **  His  mind,  fortified  by  religi- 
ous habits,  enabled  him  to  persevere  to  the 
end  in  the  active  and  cheerful  discharge  of 
the  duties  of  his  station ;  preparing  for  the 
world  the  blessings  of  elegant  instrudion; 
tendering  to  the  mourner  the  lessons  of  di- 
vine consolation ;  guiding  the  young  by  his 
counsels;  aiding  the  meritorious  by  his  in- 
fluence ;  and  supporting,  by  his  voice  and  by 
his  conduit,  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical  con- 
stitution of  his  country." 


225 

Though  his  bodily  constitution  was  by  no 
means  robust,  yet  by  habitual  temperance 
and  by  attention  to  health,  his  life  was  hap- 
pily prolonged  beyond  the  usual  period. 
During  the  summer  before  his  death,  he  was 
occupied  in  preparing  the  last  volume  of 
his  Sermons  for  the  press ;  and  for  this  pur- 
pose, he  copied  the  whole  with  his  own 
hand.  It  seemed  to  give  him  much  plea- 
sure, that,  at  his  advanced  period  of  life,  he 
was  able  to  make  this  exertion.  A  few  days 
before  he  died,  he  had  no  complaint;  but 
on  the  24th  December,  1800,  he  felt  a 
slight  pain  in  his  bowels,  with  which  nei- 
ther he  nor  his  friends  were  alarmed.  On 
the  afternoon  of  the  26th,  this  pain  in- 
creased, and  violent  symptoms  began  to  ap- 
pear ^  the  causes  of  which  were  then  unfor- 
tunately unknown,  both  to  himself  and  to 
his  physician.  He  had  for  a  few  years 
before  laboured  under  an  inguinal  hernia. 
This  complaint,  which  he  was  imprudently 
disposed  to  conceal,  he  considered  as  tri- 
29 


22(j 

fling;  and  he  understood,  that,  by  taking 
the  ordinary  precautions,  nothing  was  to 
be  apprehended  from  it.  Had  the  real 
cause  of  the  disease  which  carried  him  off 
been  known  at  first,  and  an  early  remedy  ap- 
phed,  its  fatal  effeds  might  have  been  pre- 
vented for  some  time.  In  consequence  of 
an  incarceration  of  the  hernia,  it  produced  a 
complete  stoppage  in  his  bowels  ;  and  his 
physician  had  to  lament,  that  before  his  aid 
was  called  for,  the  strength  of  his  patient  was 
exhausted,  and  an  inflammation  had  com- 
menced, which  it  was  impossible  to  resist. 
The  bodily  agony  he  underwent  for  some 
hours  before  his  death  had  no  effed:  upon 
his  mind,  which  remained  distindt  and 
calra.  He  met  his  fate  with  the  compo- 
sure lof  a  Christian,  who  had  nothing  to 
fear ;  and  expired  on  the  morning  of  Sa- 
turday the  27th  of  December,  in  the  83d 
year  of  his  age,  and  the  59th  of  his  mi- 
nistry. 

The  death  of  a  man  who  had  long  been 
acknowledged,  as  one  of  his  country's  bright- 


227 

est  ornaments,  naturally  occasioned  univer- 
sal concern,  and  was  regarded  as  a  public 
loss.  It  could  not,  indeed,  have  been  ex- 
pected, in  the  course  of  nature,  that  his 
life  would  be  long  protaded,  beyond  the 
period  which  it  had  reached.  Yet  his 
friends  could  not  fail  to  be  deeply  affeded, 
when  the  sudden  and  fatal  event,  which 
snatched  him  from  them,  at  last  took  place. 
The  City,  and  the  University  of  Edinburgh 
equally  regretted  the  loss  of  one,  whom 
they  had,  for  so  many  years,  been  proud 
to  reckon  as  their  own,  and  who  so  emi- 
nently adorned  both,  by  his  professional 
talents  and  reputation.  Even  strangers, 
who  knew  the  character  of  this  valuable 
man  only  by  fame,  seemed  to  be  hardly 
less  affeded  by  the  news  of  his  death,  than 
his  personal  friends ;  and  by  none  were 
those  expressions  of  grief  withheld,  which, 
however  unavailing  in  themselves,  serve 
impressively  to  attest  the  resped  of  the  li- 
ving for  the  memory  of  the  dead. 


228 


The  Author  of  Dr.  Blair's  Life  humbly 
flatters  himself,  that  his  work  will  be  re- 
ceived with  indulgence  by  the  public.  With 
every  disposition,  so  far  as  his  abilities 
would  permit,  to  do  justice  to  his  subject, 
in  complying  with  the  request  of  his  much 
honoured  friend,  he  found  himself  deprived 
of  those  means  of  information,  which  most 
biographers  have  been  able  to  command. 
From  the  conversation  of  a  few  of  Dr.  Blair's 
aged  friends,  who  had  been  the  companions 
of  his  youth,  and  from  the  Author's  own 
recoil edion,  he  had  to  draw  every  anec- 
dote which  he  has  now  related.  His  op- 
portunities of  being  intimately  acquainted^ 
with  this  illustrious  man,  were  indeed  un- 
common. He  had  found,  in  Dr.  Blair,  the 
friend  and  monitor  of  his  youth ;  and  had, 
for  twenty-five  years,  been  associated  with 
him,  as  one  of  his  colleagues  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Edinburgh.  It  would  be  ungrate- 
ful, were  the  author  to  omit  this  opportu- 


229 

liity  of  acknowledging  his  high  obhgations 
to  the  steady  and  uninterrupted  friendship, 
which  he  thus  enjoyed,  during  the  greatest 
part  of  his  hfe.  But  on  the  numberless 
proofs  of  affedtionate  regard,  with  which  he 
was  honoured  by  his  venerable  friend,  he 
would  be  ashamed  to  dwell. 

The  imperfedl  account  now  brought  to  a 
conclusion,  is  not  intended  as  an  eulogium 
on  the  distinguished  character,  whom  it  de-^ 
scribes.  The  name  of  Dr.  Blair  needs  no 
panegyrist.  His  literary  honours  are  a  trophy 
which  he  has  ered:ed  for  himself,  and  which 
time  will  not  destroy.  Posterity  will  justly 
regard  him  as  a  benefadtor  of  the  human  race, 
and  as  no  ordinary  instrument  in  the  hand 
of  God,  for  refining  the  taste,  improving  the 
morality,  and  promoting  the  religion  of  the 
Christian  world. 


THE   END 


Princeton  Theological  Scmm.iry-Speer 


1    1012  01095  0360 


Date  Due 


>!^ 


'^V, 


//:» 
I 


Wjd^^ 


j^h  I 


